I Can't Decide
by AlwaysEatTheRude21
Summary: I can't decide, whether you should live or die, oh, you'll probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry. Intellectual vs intellectual. Knives will be sharpened, blood will be spilled, tears will be shed and people WILL be ate. Hermione has something to sink her teeth into, so pull up a chair, you've been invited to dinner. HANNIBAL/HERMIONE. multi-chapter story.
1. Butterbeer part 1

Butterbeer part one-

AN- I have no idea where this came from, it just popped into my head one day and would never leave! Any way i hope you enjoy my mad musings. PLEASE be aware i do not have a Beta so if you spot any mistakes they are all mine. I have checked my work but sometimes they just sneak past.

IMPORTANT CHANGES- Theses are the changes i have made from cannon Harry Potter. They are important to the story, And most of them will be explained throughout the story. I haven't just changed things for the sake of changing them.

1\. Hermione never left Malfoy mannor with Harry and Ron. Instead she was left behind, enduring the Deatheater headquarters for about a year, before she broke herself out. What happened at the manor during this time will be explained through out the story.

2\. After Hermione escaped she joined in with the war once more but rather than become part of the order of the pheonix, she sort of did her own thing. Ending up with her doing the job she does, Hunting down rogue Deatheaters and dark wizards and witchs.

never really reconnected to anyone after her escape, not being able to be the same person she used to be. However, the higher ups like Kingsley Shacklebolt have some contact with her, who only really just give her the next case to work on.

4\. After the war alot of the Deatheaters didn't give up, leading most of them to flee and work from the shadows.

BEWARE CONTAINS- voilence (This is Hannibal lecter people -.-) Torture, swearing and overall bloody-ness.

DISCLAIMER- I own nothing. i mean it, absalutly nothing. I'm just playing with other peoples toys.

* * *

Hermione leant over the body that lay prone on the frigid Metal slab. She had no need to, the signs were bellowing the obvious in her face mockingly. She knew who did it, and who did it knew she would be the one sent after him. Neither would have it any other way, not after all their shared history. This time was the last. Hermione would make sure of that, there was no other option. She would not allow him to take the last piece of her family. This ended here, in America of all places. A throaty cough brought her out of her morbid reflections.

"Hello, My name is Jack Crawford. Hermione Granger, special forces i assume?"

Hermione tugged off the latex gloves with a gratifying thwack. Dusting her hands off on her jeans, she span around with a acknowledging smirk to greet the man behind her. He was not as tall as he was big in presence, he seemed to be able to take up the whole room on his own. He had graying hair and cautious eyes that reminded Hermione of Mad-eye Moody.

"Just Hermione is fine. Have you messed with the body at all? Ran any form of tests?"

A woman not much taller than she, enveloped in a pristine white lab jacket walked forward, flicking through papers.

"A fair few, but nothings turned up. I mean absolutely nothing. We cannot even tell you how these lacerations were made. No knifes, swords or any type of weapon we know made these, not even a scalpel."

Unwittingly a miniscule smile graced Hermiones face. Definitely her guy then. She knew what the results would have been even if the tests weren't ran. They Would not be able to find what sort of weapon did this, for no weapon at all was used. Just magic.

"Of course. Well agent Crawford, this is my guy alright. If you could hand over all files and documents on this case, i would be grateful."

Crawford nodded, fixing the papers from the woman into a magnolia file and passing it over to Hermione. Taking the file Hermione simply gripped it. She would not find anything useful in it. Not one iota, these muggles knew nothing of what had came creeping into their house.

"If you don't mind me asking Hermione, what exactly is it that you do? MI5? SAS?"

Hermione gave him another amiable smile. Or what she hoped seemed warm. She was never good at these things anymore. Maybe it never did come naturally to her. She wondered what her life would be like if she actually worked for either MI5 or SAS, but she pushed that away, idle fantasies did nothing but get people killed. She did not have the bliss of losing herself into a make believe land, not with him still on the lose. Her work laid more in the grey area of life, with no one to answer to but with all the consequences to land on her own head, or her families as she had personally found out.

"Not quite. Let's just say i handle the cases no one else can. Do you mind me setting up room in one of you spare offices? I have a lot to get through."

Crawford nodded as he began to lead her out of the small, brightly lit morgue, only to be halted by the woman when they reached the door.

"What does Mudblood mean?"

Hermione stiffened automatically. Trying to fight down the memories that came slamming down upon her mind. Push back, lock down. Push back, lock down. peering behind her she took a firm look at the body that was on display for the world to see.

She did not know his name, did not know his age, she did know he was a muggle. This was no personal attack on the victim. No this was far worse, he was simply used to take a shot at Hermione herself. He was used to gain her attention. A waving flag in the air, shouting for the world to hear, I'M HERE! Only Hermione knew what clues to look for, understood the language he was speaking. He was starting a new game and Hermione was going to send his king crashing down on the chess board this time.

The poor muggle must have been in agony before he eventually succumbed to death. The frozen scream gave that much away. Spread across every inch of skin, apart from his face, was slashed 'MUDBLOOD' in various sizes. His face, the only unmarked patch of skin, was what made her want to smash the room to pieces and scream at the top of her lungs. At everything and at nothing. She knew why he had chosen this man out of any other. If she did not directly look at the body, she could mistake the victim for her father. All that was missing was the horn rimmed glasses.

This was a sick jab at what he had already taken from her, his hellish victory dance. Push back, lock down. Hermione sucked in a rather jagged breath before cementing her mask back on. Looking at the woman she took note of her name displayed on her chest.

"Just English slang, Beverly. Nothing more."

Hermione subconsciously reached for her forearm, rubbing gingerly at the large scar that was hidden under bandages and her leather jacket. Hermione nodded her goodbye, not trusting her voice as she and Crawford left the room and entered the maze of corridors that led to the offices. They came to an abrupt stop at a bulky door, Crawfords name etched on a polished golden plate.

"If you wouldn't mind stepping into my office, just for a quick word?"

Hermione did not answer but stepped in anyway, making her way over to the window at the far side. Turning back to facing the room, she made sure to keep the two doors in her eyesight. Survival instincts it seemed, never really leave you. Crawford strolled behind his desk, his footsteps heavy even against the carpet. Pulling out his chair he waved over to the two open seats in invitation. Hermione declined with a shake of her head, she liked her vantage point just where she was.

"How long have you been hunting this killer down? A year now?"

Hermione mentally scoffed but gave no outward sound. _Try five_ , she mentally answered. But that would give away too much, after all she was only twenty two, she could not very well admit she has been after this man since her mid teens. Instead she gave a non-committal grunt.

"Around that, yes."

Crawford nodded as he skimmed through the scattered papers on his desk. Stopping to scan a few before pushing them away and moving on. A knock on the door prevented Crawford from carrying on his line of questioning. She did not know whether to be thankful or annoyed. She held no doubt he would finish this at one point or another. Crawford gave her an apologetic grimace as he let his voice boom through the brick and wood.

"Come in!"

The door opened with a barely audible squeak and in came a brunette woman, pale but rosy, dawning a rich blue coat. Behind her entered a towering man, dressed impeccably in a suit, hair perfectly combed away from his face. Where the woman took a good few moments to notice her, the same could not be said about the man.

He zeroed in on her as soon as his shiny Italian leather shoe hit the carpet of Crawfords office. Hermione straightened out from leaning against the window and took a few steps forward. Close so she could not be classed as rude but far enough to keep in her own little bubble. The woman would be no trouble to sneak around, the man could pose one in the future though. He was observant, quick by his reaction of noticing her and Hermione would say suffered from a mild case of OCD. So methodical then, another checkbox ticked in her should be weary check-list.

If he worked here, he would be trouble to get around. Especially without outing her heritage or the magical world all together. The woman shuffled in and placed her dry umbrella by the door. Hermiones eye twitched. A coat stand was right there, how possibly hard could it be to place the god damned umbrella on it? Watching her closer, Hermione did not change her opinion. Easy to get around.

Watching the man made her doubts grow heavy in her gut. His strides were precise, calculated. Hermione frowned slightly, a bit too precise. Fencing? Kick boxing? Mix martial arts? If she did not know better and could feel no magic emanating from him, she would swear he was either a duelist or Auror. No one naturally moved like that. It was trained, engraved in, Hermione knew because she too walked the very same way. His suit and precise manner did not ring the FBI bell, so a scientist then... or a Doctor. Why would a... Doctor, she was sure now, walk like a fighter?

In the recess of her mind she could hear her mothers voice, soft and fluid like a falling feather, reading Carroll to her. Why is a raven like a writing desk? Looking up she caught his gaze head on and surprisingly saw her own expression mirrored back. Two seconds in and he was picking out flaws in the disguise she so carefully tailored and wore. Scrap him might being a problem, he was a very real candidate for being the first muggle to ever find out what she was. How disheartening, she had a record going. She would just have to be extra careful. Fortunately before he could rip any more holes in her facade, Crawford spoke.

"Ah, Dr. Bloom, Dr. Lecter. I would like you to meet the newest addition to our district, special agent Hermione Granger. Miss. Granger meet the Doctors. I was in the middle of something with Hermione, if you could possibly wait for us to finish before we talk about why you're here... And of course if Hermione doesn't mind the added guests?"

Hermione made a sweeping gesture with her hand. She very well could not kick them out because the big one, Dr. Lecter, was here. It was best she stay under the radar, blend in, get done and then be finished with it all. All she wanted to do now was settle her weary bones down. Grow some roots near the only family she had left.

"Not at all Crawford."

Dr. Bloom stepped forward holding out her hand for Hermione to shake, Hermione internally cringed. She did not do much of the whole skin to skin contact. It gave the other person too much opportunity to use. Shaking it off, she reached out and shook the womans hand once before pulling back.

"Hermione? I could have sworn i heard that name somewhere? A winters tale maybe?"

Hermione gave her a small smile. Everyone made the same mistake. She could not blame Dr. Bloom or the others who got it wrong, it was an unusual name and the most popular use of it was from William Shakespeare.

"Afraid not. I was named after Cadmus et Hermione."

Dr. Bloom nodded, but seemed not to know what she was speaking about. Not a Opera fan then. Dr. Lecter came forward next, foregoing the hand shaking which relieved her a smidgen.

"Cadmus et Hermione by Jean Baptiste Lully. Even more of an unique name choice. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ah, another tidbit of information. An accent, but originating from where? Somewhere in eastern Europe. Bulgaria, no. Ukraine? Romania? Lithuania?

"Mine too."

Hermione was yanked out of her internal dialog by Crawford standing up, he walked around his desk and came to a stop at the front, leaning back against it with his arms folded across his chest. He offered the two seats to the newest guests, who both accepted politely.

"Lets get down to business. As i was saying, in the States for less than a year, in which time you've helped catch killers in every state you've stopped in. Some of which have been classed as uncatchable. Totaling in seven unsolvable crimes being solved. That's quite a track record Miss. Granger."

Hermione was feeling tired, all she wanted to do was set up her office and go find her cousin, make sure he was okay. If the killer was here and knew she would be to, he could target her cousin at any given moment. She did not have time to spar with words.

"Yes, lets stop beating around the bush, what is it you want agent Crawford?"

Crawford grinned toothily at her forwardness and Hermione grinned back. She had a feeling that he was a no bullshit type of person, someone she would get along great with if she was proven right.

"While you're here, if you could help out on the more...Intricate cases, it would be appreciated. No one can quite do what you and Will can"

There's the hook with the bait waving in her face. Her mind clinked the pieces together until she had the picture in her mind. Opening her mouth she was cut of by .

"Will. That's where i know your name from. You're his cousin. The one who used to spend holidays over here and still rings every weekend."

Hermione cut a glance at the brunette, wondering what her relationship to Will was. How much of a liability she could become if her killer got his filthy hands on her.

"Yes, he is. If you're looking to see if me and Will have the same... Technique, you best look somewhere else."

Hermione said as she walked over to the shelving cabinet. Skimming the books lining the shelves, most if not all disappointing. It was a shame, she always had a soft spot for books.

Dr. Bloom looked a little upset at the revelation, as if she wanted Hermione to be like Will so she could cross examine her, dissect her bit by bit. Crawford nodded dejectedly but Dr. Lecter worried her the most, he watched her like a hawk. He was the only one in the room to pick up on her use of words, turning them around in his head, coming to a conclusion to most likely get her to specify. She found she was right once he spoke up.

"You're past years work poses a difference of opinion. particularly for one so young. If not like Will, than how?"

Hermione pulled the straps on her mask even tighter. She realized she would have to watch everything she said, did, in front of this man. One slip up and she could practically see him pounce. She would have to answer, there was no way around it, but hopefully she would not give too much away at the same time. Something to soothe his curiosity but get him to back off simultaneously.

"Will feels what these killers what makes him such a good profiler. Me, well i can step into their mindset, think like they think. Think how they thought at the time of the crime, think like they thought of their next move, its what makes me so good at, as you said Crawford, tracking down the uncatchable. That being said, thinking and feeling are totally different. Opposites really."

Dr. Lecter reclined in his chair, hands folding in his lap neatly, head slightly cocked to the side. Soaking in what she had said. She silently prayed to a god she did not believe in that it was enough to quench his curiosity. He was clever, she did not need to know him personally to know that. Clever people were a bitch to obliviate. Some even being able to push it off all together. She really didn't want it to come to that. His next words made her feel like she should either be on high alert or relaxed. It was a peculiar mix.

"The ability to think like a killer, but at the same time being able to maintain your emotions as all your own. Impressive skill set. Not one people are usually born with or can gain either."

No. Hermione agreed. It did not come natural to her either. She had to go through a war as a child, watch her friends die, her family die, be hunted down like a rabid dog before she learned that in life, it was either adapt or die. And adapt she did. To well, until it came so easy for her to step into other peoples shoes, be in there mindset, think like they do.

"Well, I'm a lucky person then."

Hermione broke away from his eyes, not noticing until she broke away that she was looking at him dead on. She would have to watch that, her eyes gave away too much to leave her comfortable. Hermione slipped her hands into her leather jacket and headed towards the door. Her first priority was to catch her killer before he took the last thing she had from her old life. If she could help out while doing that, then she would.

"I will help out as much as i can agent Crawford. Sorry to be impolite but i must be on my way, i have things to set up, files to go through and a good nights rest in order. Jet lag from the UK is a monster to shake off. Goodbye agent Crawford, Dr. Bloom, Dr. Lecter."

Dr. Bloom and Crawford gave her a quick goodbye and a smile from the latter. Dr. Lecter however just nodded towards her as she closed the door, keeping eye contact until the last possible second.

* * *

Hermione clasped the steaming cup of Chai tea closer to her chest as she observed Will pace in her front room. Smiling as the notes of ginger and vanilla wafted up her nose as she breathed it in deeply.

"I need to back off, I'm not stable enough for field work. I'm getting in too deep, i can feel it Hermione, settling in on my chest like a bag of bricks."

Hermione gradually placed down her cup on her saucer and placed it on the glass side table. Heaving her self out from the comforts of her leather couch, she padded across the light hardwood flooring and over to a clearly distressed Will. If she didn't interrupt now, he would just spiral downwards, sucking himself down the whirlpool. Will was Wills worst enemy. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she managed to get him to stop walking a hole into her flooring. smiling, she squeezed his shoulders softly.

"Will, we both know you aren't going to quit. It's not in you. Not when you believe lives rest on your shoulders. Just remember, they don't rest on yours alone. And if... IF you get in too deep, I'll be there to drag you out and slap some sense into you. You're not alone."

Will gave her one of his charming lopsided grins as he stared at her ear. Close enough to her eyes, but never quite getting there. At least he tried with her, she had seen him stare off in the opposite direction to some one when they were talking to him. All in all, it was his own indicator to how much he liked a person, the closer he would look at their eyes. Hermione was one of the lucky few who got him to at least look at her face.

He pulled her in for a loose hug before a ringing and buzzing from his pocket drew him away as he answered his phone. The conversation was over quick and he half turned back towards her.

"There's been another murder. I don't suppose you have time to come along and help put some perspective on it?"

She couldn't. She had her own murderer to hunt down. She still had to finish setting up her office and to scout the area the FBI had found the body. She was close, she could not get distracted right at the last hurdle. Not when he was standing at the finish line, waiting for her to finish their little game.

"Sorry Will, I'm fully booked."

Will gave a jerky nod, as if he expected all along for her to decline.

Before she could walk away, Will grasped her right forearm, running his fingers over the bandage that was wrapped there. Hermione tensed.

"You never did tell me why you have to wear this."

It was the scar she had obtained from Bellatrix Lestrange. Showing the world what the anarchistic woman thought her as. Unfortunately for Hermione, the blade the woman had used canceled out any glamours or enchantments that could have possibly been used to hid it. No, Bellatrix wanted her to forever proclaim her label to the world. So Hermione had to resort to muggle methods of camouflaging it.

Hermione began walking away, over to the coat hanger standing in her front hallway. tugging off Wills coat and handing it to him. She let herself lie, something that made her gut contort when it was Will she was doing it to.

"Just an old scar that plays up sometimes. It didn't heal right. It's just best to keep pressure on it, incase it decides to act up that day and I'm busy."

Thankfully Will dropped the question, knowing him it wasn't that he fell for her lame excuse, but really noticed how much it affected her. Will always knew how she felt, no matter how much she tried to hide it. It was as disconcerting as it was heartwarming. After a quick goodbye and a 'see you later', Will left through her front door. Once the door clacked shut, Hermione sagged.

Once all this was finished, and her killer was in her hands, then she could spend time with him. She just had to keep him safe until that time came. Keep him distant enough so he couldn't find out what was going on or what she was, but close enough to keep a sharp eye on him. She had a distinct feeling she was walking on a knifes edge.

* * *

Hermione awoke like she was fighting through a thick smog of decay. The acrid fumes adhering to the back of her throat and stinging her nostrils. It was the same damn smell she was forced to endure for a year down in the belly of Malfoy manor.

She didn't jump or give any other indication she was awake from the sudden haunting flashback disguised as a dream. She had ceased doing that a long, long time ago. Instead she slowly peeled her eyes open and eased herself up on her pillows. She had no control over what her traitorous mind decided to show her when she fell into sleep, but she did have control on how she reacted after, it was a small comfort but one she relished in.

She was at home, well as close to a thing resembling a home she could call this place, or any other she had rested her head in the last six years.

The macabre dream she was having was shoved back as she realized what had awoken her. Her doorbell was ringing obnoxiously loud. Untangling herself from her twisted sheets, she slid on her dressing gown and tied a secure knot. Strolling down the stairs, she made her way to the door, unlocked and opened it.

Standing outside in ruffled clothing and skewed glasses was Will. And just behind him, almost like his shadow, stood the ever imposing figure of Dr. Lecter. Impeccably dressed considering the time was only a little past seven in the morning. The sun had only just decided to grace the sky with its presence.

Without a word, Hermione shuffled to the side and made a sweeping gesture with her arm, welcoming the men inside. In her books it was too early to be dealing with whatever Will was dragging to her doorstep, and definitely too early for overly observant muggles.

Keeping her quiet time going, Hermione led them to the kitchen and set up her tea pot, deciding on some Earl grey to hopefully give her some zest this morning. It was either that or kick the men out of her house and haul herself back to bed.

"You have a lovely home ."

Hermione slid the lid back onto the glass tea pot and placed it back into its rightful place on the serving tray, next to the glass jug of milk, sugar jar and tongs. Centre stage as her Nan had shown her before she even reached her knee.

"Thank you. However, i am a bit confused as to why you two are here this early in the morning. Whatever it is, I'm guessing it couldn't wait?"

Twirling around, she softly placed the tray among the three of them on the marble kitchen island.

"help yourselves to a cup if you like."

Dr. Lecter nodded his thanks as he poured himself a cup, taking a slight whiff before sipping at the hot liquid. Will awkwardly sat down at one of the stools lining her island and declined with a shake of his head and a raised hand. She guessed just as much, Will would forever be a coffee type of person. Dropping two cubes of sugar into her own cup, she waited for Will to get his thoughts in order.

"There's been two more killings. One we believe could be the handy work of your killer."

Hermione bit her lip in concentration. He wouldn't strike so soon after the last one. Her killer liked to stretch things out. Play games. Noticing the pictures

clutched in Wills hand she reached over and flexed her fingers, silently asking Will to hand them over. Which he did, nearly knocking over her cup and saucer.

"And Dr. Lecter is here because?"

Will coughed into a closed fist as he tried to right his wonky glasses and rumpled hair. Failing miserably and making the curls stick out even further. A challenge she knew all too well.

"Jack wants to make sure i stay stable. Dr. Lecter has been tasked with babysitting me on this case, until i get back into the groove of things."

Hermione registered his words, especially the disdain laced tone at the end, but she was solely focused on the pictures in her hand. This wasn't her killer. The wounds were obviously done with some type of knife. Her killer wouldn't lower himself to use muggle methods.

Whoever did it had the details of her killers last victim. The man, victim, canvas, had Mudblood scrawled across his chest. Not as many as her killers victim though, which was something to ponder. If he had the details and wished to reenact them, then why not follow the letter to the T? Even the victim looked similar to the last one. If he had taken the time to hunt down a similar looking man, he would have taken the time to carve more than he had. Unless copying wasn't the end goal he wanted to reach.

"Not my guy. This was done with a knife of some kind. Sharp and precise, surgical maybe... Wait."

Hermione unceremoniously pushed the serving tray and cups to the side, slamming the photos onto the workspace, rearranging a few. There it was.

"Oh this one is smart. A copycat, yet not a copycat at all."

Will hopped of his seat and scrambled around to the side she stood on, following with a slower pace.

"What do you mean? You're either a copycat or not."

Hermione couldn't help it, she laughed, light and breezy. It wasn't because what Will said was stupid, far from it. You copy or you didn't.

"This killer is a copycat... At the moment. Don't you see? The killers using this as a way to communicate. He or she knows me. Knows enough to know what I'm working on. They're telling me so. They're also telling me they've seen me, physically that is. They're good, I'll give them that."

Will looked slightly confused before she tugged him down to her height and he saw exactly what she had spotted.

At a certain angle, at the right height, Hermiones height to be specific, the scattering of Mudblood formed and curved into a word. Her name, Hermione. The killer had managed to create an optical illusion, an Easter egg that Hermione was predetermined to find.

"Are you sure it's not your killer?"

This time the question came from Dr. Lecter. Hermione glanced over and nodded before her eyes were sucked back to the gruesome photography littering her kitchen.

"Hundred percent sure, Mines more of a 'hit 'em where it hurts' kind of guy. Smart but brazen and forward. This one is more subtle, crafty. Something my killer wouldn't understand if it hit him over the head, he is terribly tacky that way. This killer, the one who did this, he knows the details but doesn't fully understand what they mean, not really. Like when you first learn a language, they're mimicking. However, they know , i know what it means. So in their own way, they're trying to... Speak my language, while speaking their own simultaneously. They're prodding for something."

Will seized up the photos and backed up, flipping through the images, eyes slightly glazed over. His mind somewhere far, far away. Until he snapped out of it, pushing the images away from him as if to push back whatever he had seen, stuttering slightly as he spoke.

"A hello."

Hermione nodded. That fit in with the image she was constructing in her mind.

"A curious hello. They're not sure about me, they're, well they're testing the waters so to speak."

Will wondered off to her kitchen window, still grasping the pictures. It seemed it would only be her and Dr. Lecter, until he had sorted out whatever was running rampant through his mind.

"What do you think the killer wants out of such an act? Why risk getting caught for a simple hello?"

Hermione locked eyes with Dr. Lecter as she thought, eyebrows puckering slightly in the middle as she thought hard.

"Not the thrill of the kill for sure. This had a purpose. Attention? Recognition? Conversation? Understanding... Connection? Maybe all of the above. And the risk? Well, i think its some form of compliment or test. The whole 'I'm putting myself out on a limb just to say hello', he either wants to compliment me on catching his attention or test to see if I'm the one smart enough to catch him, testing my reactions and non-reactions. "

Dr. Lecter stood still, too still for Hermione. She loathed still things, brought to many things best left forgotten to the forefront of her minds.

"Maybe all of the above aswell."

That made her still. Dr. Lecter could very well be right. This killer was giving her so many messages in such short actions. It was bombarding and distracting. Most likely exactly what he wanted. Try and throw her off her game. Hermione chuckled slightly, after everything she had been through, it would take ten times more than this to knock her off her pedestal.

"Well, one things for sure, I'm too busy for this case and you know that Will."

Hermione cut a hard glance at a frazzled Will. He was purposely trying to get her off the case she was working on, she couldn't figure out why. That alone pissed her off, not knowing ended up as dead bodies.

"You know this kill was aimed for you. If you don't look into this, this killer could escalate quickly."

"Will is right , things could take a very dark turn if both yours and Wills conclusions are correct."

Hermione flickered her gaze between the two men. They were right. Of course they were. But this made things infinitely more messy.

For one, it would diverge her path to finally catching her own demon she had been hunting down for so long. The other well, it would be likely she would be forced to work with muggles. Her chances of being outed dramatically climbing at the prospect. Especially if the hawk eyed Doctor would be around. She had a gut spasm feeling that he didn't miss anything if he looked properly.

"Fine, give me twenty to shower and dress and we can head out. We get this sorted and then i can get back to my actual work."

Hermione trudged to the kitchen door when Will spoke up from behind her.

"I could always help you out Hermione."

Her hand clenched on the door frame, breaking a nail and chipping the paint work. Unbidden images of Will sliced up entered her mind. Will with his throat slashed, on fire, being held down to drown in murky water, inferi reaching for him. Will screaming under the crutiatus curse as Hermione was held back by faceless shrouds of darkness. Screaming until her lungs would burst and her throat bleeding, matching the pitch and tempo of a dying Will crippled on the floor. Maniacal laughter floating and swerving around them like drums, like a heart beat. Stuttering before finally fading into silence with their screams.

"NO!"

Hermione was snatched back to herself by her own shout. Clutching at her hair, she felt long curls instead of uneven tufts and patches. Her bones and muscles didn't ache from extensive torture. She wasn't cold or wet or covered in blood, Hers, theirs. Her clothes didn't stick to her skin with crusts of dirt or blood. Neither being able to be distinguished from the other. She couldn't feel her ribs sticking out from starvation. Coming back to reality Hermione immediately stilled her roaming hands that had been checking herself over.

She was fine. She was in Baltimore, not that bloody manor where all her nightmares, fears and memories waited for her to slip just once. Push back, lock down. Survive. Survived. She had survived, that was what was important.

Hermione took a broken breath, pushing away the panic setting up shop in her bones. She didn't mean to shout, it just came. Turning around she spotted a shocked Will.

"I'm sorry. I've got ringing in my ears, tetanus i think. It makes me shout sometimes and lose my balance. Just give me twenty and I'll be ready. Make yourselves at home."

Smiling, Hermione turned and her smile vanished just as quickly as it came. She walked briskly out of the room and shut the door behind her.

* * *

"what are we doing here?"

Hermione asked as the three of them journeyed across the parking lot to a compact building, blustering its plumbing skills from a banner hanging from theside wall. Will was lost in his own mind to hear her question but thankfully Dr. Lecter spoke up from her left.

"Will believes that the Minnesota Shrike works here. He wants to see if there is anything that could lead to a possible trail."

Hermione gave a stilted nod as she walked up the rickety steps and into the makeshift building.

"More often than not, it's what's not there that's what leads to apprehending a suspect."

All too soon Hermione found herself aiding the men graze over boxes upon cabinets of paper work. She held no doubt that something was in here, Will would find it, he was to smart not to. What worried her was what he would do once he did find what he was looking for, the missing link to the mystery killer.

As calm and awkward as Will was, he never was one to sit back and let others take the lead in something he became transfixed with. He would charge head first into this. She couldn't let that happen. All too soon Will pulled out a piece of paper with a missing address, and just like that Will had put the links together and Hermione could hear a phantom clock ticking in the base of her skull. This was the killer, the cannibal, and Will was going to be charging at him if she didn't act fast.

"Hand it over a second."

This was going against every survival skill and rule Hermione had set up for herself to keep her inviolable. One wrong shift and everyone would know what she was. Without a question Will handed it over and turned back to carry on inquiring the bored looking receptionist. Hermione never noticed Dr. Lecter watching her from the corner of his eyes, otherwise she would have backed up. But time was of the essence, Will was closing in and if she didn't do something about it now, Will would and he would never be the same again. She couldn't let that happen if she could do something about it, which she could. It was hazardous, but that was life.

Carefully, she ripped out the signed signature from the paper. Something he had touched. Using tracking spells on non-wizards and witches wasn't illegal per-say, but it wasn't smiled on either. The wizarding policy for all things muggle, particularly after the war, was to leave everything related to them the hell alone.

Slipping the small piece of paper into her pocket, she placed the rest of the letter on the desk. She wouldn't let Will get himself into this fuckery of a mess. Worse case scenario was she would obliviate them all.

Cautiously edging towards the door, she cast a non-verbal accio on the stacked boxes of paper work. Just enough to get them to fall over but weak enough for them not to come zooming her way. The distraction worked as the receptionist, Will and Dr. Lecter turned towards the spilled paper. While they were looking away from the door, Hermione took her chance and slipped out into the big wild world in complete silence.

Taking the steps two at a time, reaching the bottom she took a right turn and hid in the shadow of it. Out of sight of the windows and doors incase someone from inside was to look for her, Hermione searched around her for any passers by. Finding none, she dug into her pocket and slipped out the small scrap of paper, holding it out in her palm. Unlatching her wand from its hidden arm holster, she weaved an intricate design in the air, muttering unintelligible words as she went along.

It was a spell from the medieval period. Originally designed for clandestine lovers. Using their writing to transform into the image of what they were doing at that specific time. Hermione paid no mind to it when she first read about it, now she found just how useful it could be, if used for other purposes instead of distant lovers.

The ink moved like water as it swirled and splashed until it settled into place, flaring a sharp blue before it did so. An ink picture of a balding man in a cabin-esque house could be seen. He was standing by the window, sharp glittering knife clutched in his hand as he went about cooking. This was the guy. Taking in the house and surrounding woods Hermione closed her eyes. Will would figure out were he lived soon and would gun for the place.

The only way of beating him there would be to apparate. And to apparate, she needed a picture of where he was. It was risky, near on death wish, to use an ink drawing as a pinpoint for apparition, but she was willing to place her bets. Concentrating, Hermione felt the familiar sense of tugging in her navel and with a whoosh she was gone.

* * *

With a pop Hermione landed on solid ground feet first, all limbs in tact despite the odds. She ducked, keeping low to the ground as she bounded toward the house standing a few feet in front of her. Coming to a stop at a brick wall, she turned around and pressed herself against it. diligently she scuttled closer to what she assumed was to be the kitchen window. Once more she was right, the man from the drawing was standing by the window work top, chopping carrots.

With the window open she could hear the knife rhythmically hitting the wooden chopping board with a harsh thunk. Hermione sank closer to the wall when a loud ringing came from inside the humble abode. The man, Hobbs if she remembered correctly from the resignation letter, turned around, plucking up a house phone and answering with a friendly hello.

She couldn't hear what the person on the other line was saying but she knew something was going down when Hobbs face became stricken and lost some coloring. The words that came tumbling from his shaky lips solidified that he was the killer, and apparently, not working alone.

"They know?"

Wasting no more time, knowing the hand of the clock was ticking and Will was on her tail, Hermione turned left and slid towards the door. Muttering a quick Alohomora, Hermione twisted the handle and pushed the door open just enough to slide in. Cautious of her footsteps, Hermione tiptoed down the hallway, stopping when she came to an open door that she knew belonged to the kitchen due to the sound of movement inside. From her vantage point of just behind the wall she could see the sickly orange/yellow linoleum flooring.

Slowly she slipped her wand back into its holster and pulled her gun from the back of her jeans. Better not raise any more questions than she had to. At a womans shout and quick heavy footsteps Hermione leapt into action.

Swinging around the open doorway, she held her gun straight with steady hands. A woman, blonde and middle aged, came barreling towards her, halting when Hermione made her presence known. It was just enough of wasted time for Hobbs to drag her back by her hair towards him. Within a blink of an eye, Hobbs raised his butcher knife and sliced into the womans neck, dropping her as soon as the knife left her skin.

The woman, his wife Hermione would guess dropped as soon as Hobbs hand left her hair, hands scrambling at her neck in a futile effort, trying to hold her blood in her profusely bleeding wound. She wouldn't survive, Hermione pushed her from her mind. No point dawdling on lost cases. Instead she focused on a bloody Hobbs. The woman totally forgotten.

He made a dive for a young girl, woman, who was huddling in the corner. Hermione was faster and she fired her gun... straight into his head. A clean death, instant kill. More than he likely deserved. He dropped just like his wife had, dead before he even hit the floor with a dull thump.

Lowering her gun, she walked in, making sure to skirt the blood pooling on the floor. Making her way to the still screaming girl, she tried her best to calm her down but she couldn't be heard over the womans shouting and cries of disbelief and anguish.

"stop screaming. DAMMIT STOP!"

If she didn't stop making such an ear piercing noise, the neighbors or a passer by would hear and then how the hell was she going to explain how she got here so fast. Coming to a last resort after the girl made a dash to get around her, she whipped her wand out and with a low apology she was sure the woman didn't hear, fired a bright red stunner her way. The girl crumpled but Hermione grabbed her before she could hit the floor, gently lowering her.

Hermione checked her pulse and found it calm and steady. She was healthy, well as healthy as she could be, she was going to be mentally scarred once she woke up. Hopefully that could work in her favor if she started spouting about the bright lights and wooden stick.

Looking around her she took in the carnage, sighing she got up from her crouching position and walked out the room and house. Closing the large door she cast a quick locking spell and stepped back three paces.

Hiding her wand once again she picked up her gun and with all her strength charged and booted the door in, happy when some wooden splinters broke off and landed on the floor. All the more detail for the stage she was setting up. This was not her first rodeo, she knew just the right amount of clues to leave to make things look like it was done by a muggle.

Jogging back into the house and to the kitchen she walked as close to Hobbs as the blood would let her, wandlessly she cast an accio on the bullet inside his brain, catching it mid air as it came flying towards her before pocketing it in an inner pocket of her jacket. She couldn't very well leave it there when she was planning on leaving a slug in the wall and only firing one shot. One perfectly time shot. Backing up, she once again took spot at the kitchen door way, lifting her gun into place around the same height Hobbs would be standing, waiting.

The slam of a car door made her count down from four. Looks like Will was here sooner than she expected, and just like she thought, came running in himself instead of calling Crawford.

Four, three, two, one. Her gun made a loud bang as she fired. She needed them to believe that this just happened, that she had only just piped them to the post.

Like some theatrical play she had set up, puppets and all, Will came storming in, the good Doctor just behind him. They came to a abrupt stop when they saw her in the hallway, gun still raise over the dead body of Hobbs. Trembling she lowered the shaking gun. Turning around, she added extra jerk and quivers to her limbs to make it seem like she was still high on adrenalin.

"Hermione?"

Will was breathless, gun hanging limply at his side. He had come here to kill Hobbs, or die trying.

"I got here too late, the mums dead. I think the girl fainted from shock, he...Hobbs... He went for her and i just... Fired."

Hermione tried to add as much stilting and stuttering as she could to her speech without making it look over done. Even going as far as to twitch every few seconds. Had she always been this good at lying, or was that another thing she had brought with her from the bowels of Malfoy manor? Either way it didn't matter. Will was fine, non changed and alive. That was all that mattered.

In an act that was so unlike him, Will wrapped her up into a hug. Hermione slowly highered her own arms to do the same, but her eyes were drawn to Dr. Lecter standing behind Will.

He stood still. No facial expression but Hermione could swear his lips were slightly turned up in the corner. But most bewildering of all was what lay hidden in his eyes, concealed but still there shining brightly. Curiosity and satisfaction. Both of them clashing together in his darkened gaze. Hermione filed it away for later, putting it down to him being a psychiatrist. This whole thing must be like a feast for him to pick apart, her 'reaction', Wills reaction. What a buffet her and Will must make in this moment.

Pulling away from Will, she spoke.

"You better call and get Crawford down here Will."

Will nodded and dunked his hand into his jean pocket, fishing out his phone and dialing madly. He wondered down the hallway as he spoke quickly into the phone.

"Are you injured Miss. Granger?"

Hermione looked up at the man who had somehow gotten beside her without her knowledge. How odd. His hand came to rest on her shoulder and she could feel the heat of it through her thin leather jacket and cotton top.

"I'm fine. Well as alright as can be expected. The killer... Did the receptionist leave at any point before you guys left?"

Dr. Lecters head cocked to the side slightly in consideration, fingers flexing on her shoulder.

"Now that you say it, she did leave around the same time you vanished. You certainly got here in record timing."

Hermione gave a short nod. Dr. Lecter lifted his hand from her shoulder and slipped it back into his suit jacket.

"I practically broke every speed limit on the roads Dr. Lecter. Hobbs, he got a phone call, someone warned him about us coming for him. I think it was the receptionist, she was the only one who knew who we were after."

Dr. Lecter gave no indication or reaction to her revelation. Only a slight nod.

"Yes, you must have. And please, Hannibal is perfectly fine . After all, i hope in time we could become friends. Do not worry so much right now, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that afterwards."

Hermione smiled but inwardly grimaced. She didn't have the privilege of gaining friends. Not right now.

"Well In that case, Hermione is perfectly fine as well."

Hannibal have her a slight upturn of a smile. She did agree about the worrying as she heard the police sirens blaring from outside. She had plenty to worry about. A rampaging wizard whose only goal was to wipe out her entire family tree, a copycat not copycat killer who... Well, she had no idea of their end game, her last surviving relative to watch over and being surrounded by muggles every which way. Worry was the least of her problems that was going to hit her full force.

* * *

 **Preview of the next chapter - People question Hermiones timing, Will knows something is wrong with Hermione, her killer strikes again and finally... Hermione has a session with Hannibal Lecter!**

 **AN- I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review, favourite and follow if you want to! Until next time**

 **-AlwaysEatTheRude21**


	2. Butterbeer part 2

Disclaimer- I own nothing, all places, people, items and characters belong to their specific writer/maker. No copyright fringement intended.

DISCRIPTIONS OF VOILENCE AND DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER, IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH PLEASE DO NOT READ. THIS IS A HANNIBAL FANFICTION SO PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND.

* * *

 _Godric hollows cemetry._

 _Hermiones breath left her mouth in swirls of smoke in the frozen air. Pulling her hat down further with numb fingers, she rubbed her gloved hands together, trying to keep warm in the mid-winter weather._

 _In front of her, set in dark marble and stone, was Severus Snapes grave, standing proudly next to Lily Potters eternal resting place. Harry wanted him placed there as a form of respect to the sour man, for all he did for the woman he loved. Hermione found it distasteful and tactless. Just like in life, she was touching distance away, yet completely out of his reach. The final blow was James Potters grave sitting on the other side of Lilys. Fate was a bitch and even death hadn't stopped its sick jokes aimed at the dark man._

 _"I thought i would find you here."_

 _Now that was a voice she hadn't heard in awhile. Harrys voice had only gotten deeper and more guttural in age. Hermione didn't acknowledge him, even when he came to stand next to her. She just wanted him to say what he wanted and leave. Looking at him was painful, a permanent reminder of the girl she would never be again, innocence lost. Was it selfish of her to hate him for it?_

 _"Look, i wished i had come to see you sooner. A lot sooner. I just... I don't know how to speak to you anymore."_

 _Hermione chuckled at him. The lie must have been weak even to his own ears. He must hate her also, for she was just as much of a reminder as he was. She represented all the could have beens, of all the loss's. Yes, fate was a royal bitch._

 _"Don't lie to me Harry. You at least owe me that. If it's any consolation prize, i have no idea what to say to you either. Seems we're both at a loss for words. It's best to leave it at that and walk away."_

 _Harry went to nab her arm but came to a standstill at the last second, thinking better of it. Hermione was pleased he came to that conclusion himself. She didn't want him, or anyone, to touch her. She didn't do well with physical contact anymore._

 _"I can't do that Hermione. Not yet, you know that. Why are you doing this?"_

 _Hermione let out a biting laugh and span to face him, he avoided her eyes and it made her laugh harder. He knew, he just wouldn't admit it to himself, couldn't mentally comprehend how far gone his friend was._

 _"What Harry? I'm doing the righteous fight. I'm going to catch the bad guys for all the little children and Christmas and fucking rainbows and puppies. Don't treat me like an idiot and don't do it to yourself either. You're smarter than that."_

 _Finally he gazed into her eyes and Hermione gulped. His usually bright green eyes were as hard as a jade knife. It felt like he was cutting into her soul._

 _"I see Hermiones face, but i don't hear her words or see her actions. Who are you anymore? What happened to that girl who thought getting expelled was the worst thing? What happened to her, i miss her, not this shadow standing in front of me."_

 _Hermione squared herself up and looked blankly at him. He cracked slightly, opening his mouth to speal again but Hermione had had enough, she cut him off._

 _"I'll tell you what happened to her Harry, she died in those cells in Malfoy manor. She was weak and she paid the price. If you want pretty words, why don't you pop over there and speak to her ghost? She's dead and gone, except it and move on."_

 _Harrys shoulders sagged and a defeated look flittered across his face. They were as much strangers to eachother now as they had been on that train in first year. It seemed like life times away now._

 _"The worse... Biggest regret i have about the war was leaving you behind that night and never trying to get you back. I just wanted you to know that."_

 _Hermione relaxed her guard a little. Harry was too sympathetic. Took others pains into himself like it was his own to carry. It's why she could never fully tell him of her time in Malfoy manor. He took too much onto himself until he breaks. Hermione had enough of seeing broken things._

 _"Don't... Don't Harry. You did the right thing. There was no way all of us were getting out of that hell hole together. You were needed for the war, and Ron, Ron is emotionally and mentally weak. He would have broken in the first week. You chose right. Even now it hurts, but it's the truth."_

 _Sucking in a big gulp of air, Hermione tried to reign in her storming emotions. Trying to lock them down. What was it Mad-eye had always told her? Push back, lock down until it was over and you had the time to break. Push back, lock down. She carried on speaking once she had her voice back in her control._

 _"And look, i did the impossible and escaped all on my own. No one saw that coming."_

 _Hermione tried to joke, to take the unbearable tension from the air, but Harry just grimaced. It further pointed out their differences. He no longer understood her. Not one tiny bit._

 _"Is that why you're doing this... suicide mission. Get revenge on the sick bastards that turned you this way? Hunting down rogue deatheaters is not a joke Hermione!"_

 _Hermione barked back, Harry just couldn't understand. He never would._

 _"NO THIS ISN'T A BLOODY JOKE! This needs to be done and I'm the only one who is capable of following it through. Kingsley gets it, why can't you?"_

 _Harry stumbled back two steps before he righted himself. Realization sinking in and blossoming in his eyes like a sakura petal._

 _"He's on the list, isn't he? The one who killed your parent. That's what the deal is isn't it? You hand in the rest and you get free range over him to do as you please. Do you hate him so much you're willing to throw everything away? Because this won't stop after. Not ever. You know what will happen."_

 _Hermione shoved her hands into her coat pockets and breathed softly. He was so close, yet so far away. Like everyone else._

 _"No Harry. I don't hate him. Not fully at least. In some sick and twisted way... He's like a father to me. Tought me everything i needed to know, opened my eyes to how the real world works, helped me survive Malfoy manor in his own insidious way. And in a rather biblical way, I'm going to take him out. I owe us both that much. What you sow is what you reap."_

 _Hermione swiveled around and once again took in Snapes grave. She had come here to get guidance before she left. In the form of Harry, she though she had succeeded. She would always admire Snape, not because he was a hero, because he wasn't He was to tainted for that word to ever apply to him. But he managed to do the right thing, to hide in the darkness without becoming a monster himself. She needed that strength. She knew what she had to do._

 _"Once this is all over, you can't come back Hermione. At the moment you're useful, but once everything is said and done, the ministry will kill you. They don't like loose ends or reminders. You fit both categories. They won't be tied back to this, they won't let themselves be. They. Will. Kill. You."_

 _Hermione let a true smile slip onto her face. Oh boy, did she know that. They wouldn't bother to hunt her down, out of sight, out of mind was what the ministry lived by. But if she dared step foot into their hallowed house? Well, she may as well wrap the noose around he neck right now._

 _"I know Harry, I know."_

 _Harry sighed and stepped close, to close. Hermione couldn't bring herself to pull away. Harry wasn't the enemy here._

 _"I hope you find happiness Hermione. You, out of everyone deserves it. I'm sorry i won't be there to see it. Just... Just be safe okay? For old times sake."_

 _Hermione could see a glistening tear in Harrys eyes that was too stubborn to fall. Bells Harry and his gentle soul. She hated and loved him for it. It hurt._

 _"I hope one day i will see you again Harry. Maybe not next week, maybe not in ten years, or thirty, but sometime in the distant future."_

 _Hermione cut Snapes grave one last glimps. Hoping, dreaming she could take some of his strength with her._

 _"For old times sake."_

 _Hermione whispered as she turned around and walked away. The snow crunching under her boot clad feet. The falling snow flakes would soon hide she had ever been there and not once did she look back. This was her path, it always had been. Shame she only saw that now._

* * *

"Hermione... Hermione... Miss. Granger!"

Hermione fell back into reality with a harsh jolt. Snapping her head back to face in front of her she took in Crawfords worried face. She hadn't meant to zone out while she was looking out the window, but sometimes her mind got the better of her.

"Sorry, i was away with the fairies. What did you say?"

Crawford flopped back into his high back chair and braced his hands on the desks edge. Will stood in the corner, one arm wrapped around his torso and his teeth gnawing on his thumb of his other hand. He wouldn't look at her and Hermione knew, just knew he was thinking over something that concerned her, something that should make her worry.

Hannibal was sitting in a free chair, legs crossed and posture straight, but relaxed. It seemed the man was full of contradictions. Hermione didn't like it. She loathed not knowing and Dr. Lecter was one giant question mark, no matter how much she observed him, watched and listened, she couldn't figure him out. It felt like a knife pressed against her throat, ready to dig in at any second.

Dr. Bloom was sitting in the last spare seat, comfortably reclined as she watched the proceedings. Most likely psychoanalysing every little thing. Not to protect herself or to help in any way. No, the woman did it because she thought she had the god given right to go around rooting through peoples brains. It riled Hermione up like nothing else.

"Abigail Hobbs has awoken and she's asking to see you."

Crawfords voice was clear and rang through out the room. There was no hesitation with Hermiones answer.

"No."

Jack Crawford folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised imperially high.

"You saved the girls life."

Hermione chuckled. That wasn't her goal, she wasn't there to save her, she was there to save Will from himself. Abigail Hobbs was just an added bonus. However, she couldn't tell them that.

"I killed her father. I know if i was her, thanks wouldn't be the first thing leaving my lips."

Hermione knew that from experience. Look at her, she had crossed a continent and stepped over numerous dead bodies to get to him. Hermione idle wondered if in a few years the roles would be reversed, she would be hunted down by Abigail. Ironic really when she thought about it, and fitting too. Poetic.

"I agree, it could be detrimental to Abigails mental well being. Let alone careless for Hermiones as well. From reports, she was shaken up by the whole thing, this is not good for either of them Jack."

Dr. Bloom poped up from her seat. The urge to strangle her grew even more. This woman was pushing her too far and she better stop, for Wills sake.

"Don't try and get inside my head Dr. Bloom. I promise you wont like what you find."

Dr. Bloom, or Alana as Will called her, gave her a cautious glance. Not expecting that reaction. She must have spent too long with willing patients and Will. Of course Will would have rebuffed her attempts to get inside his head but Hermione knew Will, He had a soft spot for the woman. Therefore would be gentle in his regard for her attempts. Hermione held no such soft spot.

"What do you think Dr. Lecter?"

Hermione wondered if Jack Crawford had any other setting for his voice other than 'boom'. Hannibal sat forward in his seat, giving Hermione a once over. It made her skin itch and feel too tight.

"I believe that waiting would be the best option. It would cause unnecessary friction, but it does have to happen at some point. It's inevitable, Abigail will seak her out, it's best it happens in a secure enviroment."

Crawford deflated in his seat as he ran a tired hand down his face, stretching the skin slightly.

"Well that's that. Give it a week and then come back to me with your answer Hermione."

Hermione nodded. She didn't want to but if she had to visit the girl, she would. It seemed they had already taken the choice from her.

"The bullet hole."

And just like that, everyone in the room turned to Will as he came out of his mind. Gaze searching Hermiones face, coming to a revelation.

"You were nervous when we got there, but the bullet hole... The kill shot was right between his eyebrows. It was precise, trained... Calculated."

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, holding her breath before expelling. For once couldn't Will just miss something. Just one little thing?

"Hermione is a well trained agent Will, It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that in her shaken state she fell back onto instincts. Well ingrained instincts are our safety nets."

Hannibals voice was even, fluid and warm. Hermione didn't buy what he was trying to sell for a second. He knew, just like Will did, but he was trying to cover for her. Why? What the hell was he up to? A pulse at her temple made her cringe. A migraine was well on its way, and this shit storm was picking up pace. What else could possibly go wrong today?

The door opened swiftly and in stepped Beverly, sleek hair tossled by the wind.

"There's a man in your office wanting to speak to you Hermione. He says it's important."

Hermione frowned. No one should be coming to visit her full stop.

"Did he give his name?"

Beverly nodded.

"Rabastan Lestrange."

Hermione didn't wait for anyone else, this is what she was here for. She was the first out the door and down the hallway, ignoring Wills shouts of 'Wait!'. Ignoring the multiple footsteps following from behind her.

* * *

Rabastan Lestrange Hadn't changed a day since she had last seen him, five years ago. His hair, a deep ruby red, lay wavy against his forhead. Stubble covered his dimpled chin and cheeks and his nose was still aristocratic. He was broad shouldered and dressed finely in leathers and silks, making him stand out in a muggle backdrop. His eyes were his most striking feature, such a bright and cold blue they were almost white.

He was standing by her offices large window, flicking through a book he must have taken from her bookself.

Hermione strode towards hime silently, fingers of her left hand flexing, subconsciously reaching for her wand strapped tightly on her right arm, under her jacket.

Will, Jack, Alana and Hannibal came to a grinding halt behind her, alerting Rabastan to her presence. He snapped the book shut with a resounding bang and whirled to face her with a grin plastered on his face.

"Hello little inland Taipan. And look, you brought friends!"

Hermione ignored his jab. He wouldn't try and pull anything. This she was sure of. No spells would be exchanged today. He had purposefully came to middle ground to speak, inhibiting them both from shooting off at a moments notice. Whatever he wanted to speak about was important to him if he was going to risk coming to her of all people.

"Rabastan. The last time we saw eachother was when you were bleeding out in that foyer, how is your wound by the way?"

If he wanted to exchange concealed threats, she was more than willing to play. Rabastan strolled over to her desk chair and plopped down, leaning forward once he had comfortably situated himself. With a hooked finger, he pulled down his silken shirt, showing off the nasty scar that lay in the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

"Healed but left me with a delightful momento. I can't complain, the same can't be said for Alecto Carrow. How was it she died again? Oh right, froma broken shin bone, from a dead cell mate, jammed right into her brain from the bottom of her jaw. What a ghastly way to go."

Hermione grinned at him. He was trying to make her unsettled. Dredge up things he knew she wanted left where they belong. It wouldn't work. She had accepted what she had done the night of her escape many moons ago. Alecto may have been the first person she had killed, and Hermione may still have nightmares of that day, of how far she had fallen, but it didn't change anything. She had done what she had done. No amount of repentance and guilt would change it. And if put into her younger body, some dark part of her admitted she would do the same again.

"What do you want Rabastan? I doubt you came here to reminisce about old times."

Rabastan let go of his shirt and relaxed back into her chair, propping his feet up on the desk, fingers stroking back and forth over his chin. His gaze flickered towards the crowd behind her, eyes lighting up at the sight of someone. Hermione knew who.

"You must be Will. It's odd seeing members of Hermiones family. Shame about your aunt and uncle. Do you know how they died?"

Will blinked rapidly for a few moments, surprised to be called upon at such short notice. He answered slowly and steadily. As if speaking to a child. Treating Rabastan like a child was a very dangerous thing to do.

"A house fire."

Rabastan laughed, it was deep and gruff from smoking. It grated on her eardrums as much as it grated on her core. He was pushing bounderies and if he took one step further she would rip his tongue from his mouth, damn the witnesses.

"Well yes, by the end of the night their house was definitely nothing but cinders and hot coals on the floor. Have you looked into your family tree lately? It's looking quite bare. You could say you two-"

"RABASTAN!"

Rabastan cheekily grinned at Hermiones outburst. He had won, he had gotten to her. And then the grin was gone and all that shown was a steely determination.

"Rodolphus is dying. Six months left at the most. I know me and him are on your little list. Don't look at me like that, I'm not asking for you to wipe us off. Just give me enough time until my brother is gone and then do what you will."

Rabastan stood up with a bounce as he stepped close to her, not to close but enough for Hermione to see the delicate detail stitched into his waist coat. Ravens by the look of it.

"Tit for tat Rabastan. What are you bringing to the table?"

Rabastan briefly looked conflicted before it was washed away. He had obviously come to a decision.

"I got a visit from our mutual friend Hermione. I don't know where he is, but he showed himself for a reason. Knowing how smart he is, he likely knew i would use it for a bargaining chip and come here to tell you everything. Most likely planning on it really."

Rabastan didn't need to elaborate on who their mutual friend was. She already knew. Her killer, her mentor and her own demon.

"Tell me then, if you don't know where he is, how helpful can you be?"

Rabastan grinned and patted her arm, striding back over to the window and gazing down at the city bellow.

"I know what his end game is. That's how 'helpful' i am."

Hermione rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. Slytherins and their schemes.

"Well, go on then. Before i decide it's easier to arrest you then hunt down your sick, dying brother."

Rabastan cut her a sharp, frigid glare. Jaw clenching before settling back down again. She had gotten to him too it seems. They both knew eachothers buttons.

"In his own way, like Malfoy manor, he's trying to protect you. As messed up as his methods are, but then again, he is bloody insane. I wonder if someone was to peek beneath the veil, if they would run screaming. He's pretty convinced that would be the outcome."

Hermione sucked in a jagged breath. Oh, dear god. She understood now. She understood what all this had been. His next move was to get her to out herself. Out herself to Will. Not just with magic but with the person she had become. He was going to force her to show Will her darkest depths.

He didn't think anybody, muggles especially, would understand her. Understand the choices she had made. The killing of her family wasn't to take them away from her, it was to stop them from turning their backs on her eventually. It made this whole thing a thousand times worse. He honestly thought he was doing what was best for her. She wanted to vomit, she was going to vomit.

And this time to sink the message home, he was going to make Will see first hand, make Hermione watch as Will walked away once he knew everything. Hermione turned around and faced Will, knowing without seeing how feverist her eyes must have been.

Would Will walk away? Leave her alone in her own darkness? Will was the last link she had to her old life, to her old self. In a way he was her lifeline. A ssymbol of her innocence lost. Will was saved last for a reason, he was like a brother to her. If it was Will himself to sever the tie, it would break her. He would walk away wouldn't he? He couldn't possibly understand the things she had done, some of which she didn't understand herself.

"Leave Rabastan. Before i change my mind."

Rabastan nodded and swooped out of the room without a word. He had gotten what he wanted, he didn't care for anything else.

"Are you alright Hermione? You looke quite ill."

Alanas hand on her arm threw Hermione out of her inner panic. Her voice was soft and non threatening, but Hermione was not good with touch, and in her hightened panic, broke. Snapping up the hand by the wrist she squeezed hard, her fingers grinding on the bone of Alanas wrist.

"Don't fucking touch me unless you want me to snap your hand clean off!"

She pushed the limb back at the woman as she snarled. Alana stumbled backwards at the force.

"Hermione! Calm down!"

Wills voice was loud but not loud enough to get through the thick fog of confusion Hermione found herself in. She was in her office, but she was also back in that damp cell. She was flickering between the two. It was Will, she knew that, but he was also a deatheater. They all were. The walls were closing in on her and her chest constricted painfully, she was cornered. They were enemies, they were friends, they were her captures, they were co-workers and family. It was gaining speed and Hermiones legs buckled under her weight

"I can't breath... I can't... Need air... Can't... Can't."

Hermione clutched and grappled at her chest, clawing at the fabric. Someone, a deatheater and Hannibal grasped her shoulders, trying to get her to look at him.

"She's going into a severe panic attack. Hermione, Hermione! Focus on me Hermione!"

His face kept changing, kept slipping into the nightmarish visage of a deatheater and she wanted to fight, to kick, punch, bite her way out but she couldn't move. Everything was fading into eachother. Something metallic was sliding down her throat and her eyes started to roll back up into her skull, she could faintly hear Hannibal in the back of her mind, warbled and distorted.

"She's having a seizure. Will, put something soft under her head."

* * *

Hermiones world came to her in fractured pieces. Like shards of glass, glittering in their clarity but with a sharp bite. She was laying on something soft and springy. A thing that was wet and scratchy made its way up her face and she swotted it away with a limp hand, coming into contact with something furry.

Blinking away the sleep, Hermione took in Wilsons puppy dog face and her enviroment. She was laying in Wills bed, curled up on her side in his house. Speaking of the devil, he walked through the door carrying a tray of steaming food and by the smell of it, a good ol' cup of tea. His eyes latched onto her straight away.

"You're awake."

Rolling onto her back, she shuffled up the bed until she was partially sitting up. Her muscles ached, burning under the strain. Why did her tongue hurt so much?

"Yeah."

Her voice croaked dryly. Will leant over and placed the tray on the small bedside table. He stood there, awkwardly for a few moments before he slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, twisting his upper body so he was still facing her direction. Gently he picked up her forarm. Her bare forarm. Hermione automatically tensed even when he affectionately ran his thumb over the raised scarring, eyeing the wording. Mudblood.

"This isn't just a professional case, is it Hermione? This is personal. Beyond personal."

Hermione tried to speak but no words came to mind. For once in her short life, she was speechless.

"Yeah, it is."

Will pulled away and slowly rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand. Breathing steadily through his nose.

"Jean and Louise didn't die in a house fire, did they?"

Hermione clasped at the bedsheets under her fingertips, trying to keep breathing even when her lungs protested. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"No."

Will let out a deep breath he must have been holding with a quiet ooh.

"You bit your tongue when you had a seizure. There was a lot of blood. Alana took your top off to see if you had cut yourself when you fell. She saw the scars on your back. Showed me the scars, asked me if i knew where you had gotten them. I had to tell her i didn't know where my little cousin had gotten scars like that from. They... They aren't from any type of accident. They're deliberate, there's only one way to get scars like that. Torture."

Hermiones eyes slammed shit and all she could do was breathe. Thankfully Will was doing all the talking for the both of them.

"I don't want you to tell me, not until you're ready. But i can already guess how they came to be. Hermione, you need to speak to someone. This isn't healthy."

In a rush her mind and tongue were back under her control. He wasn't suggesting what she thought he was, was he? Not Will.

"You want me to see a fucking psychiatrist? A bit rich coming from you!"

Will tensed and for the briefest moment, his eyes locked onto hers before they scattered away again. She only needed that short time to see what layed in their depths. Pain, so much pain and worry. It nearly made her cry. Will felt too much.

"If you haven't noticed, i am seeing a psychiatrist. And as much as i am loathed to admit, it's helping. This type of... Past... Can eat you from the inside out! I can feel it happening to you. I don't want to see the little girl who never gave up on me, no matter how crazy i seemed, to fade away right before my eyes. Please, for me Hermione?"

Hermiones head flopped back onto the wall with a bump. He caught her. She was sure Will could ask her to gut a guy and she would.

"Fine. I'll go see one."

Will grinned and picked up her hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing.

"Oh no, i know you just as much as you know me. None of that loop hole speech. Promise me you will go and you will TRY to work through this. Promise me."

Hermiones shoulders sagged and she pinned Will with a stone melting glare, but eventually gave up. Looks like she was going to go down memory lane with some vulture picking apart her brain. She wondered if they would stamp her forhead with a 'Beware! Bat shit crazy!' to worn the locals.

"Fine, you win. I'll go AND I'll try."

Wills grin grew and he reached over and passed her the tray of food. Hermione dove straight for the cup of tea. It was weak but felt heavenly on her parched throat.

"Good, you have a appointment with Dr. Lecter on saturday morning. Ten am sharp."

Hermione spluttered and coughed her tea down her chin and embarrassedly wiped at the trickling liquid. That under-handed sneaky bastard.

"Dr. Lecter? No, not him. I can't believe you went behind my back and set this thing up before i even agreed!"

Will gave her a no bullshit look aimed at her left cheek.

"Dr. Lecter was there when it happened, saw the scars along with me. He offered and i accepted. His good in his field Hermione. And you seem abit, rigid with Alana. Just go once and if you don't like it, I'll find you another one."

Hermione sighed and stabbed her fork into the shephard pie with more force then necessary. The second muggle she didn't want to see her vulnerabilities and secrets had centre stage to the. What more was he going to dig out of her with an hour of just the two of them at hand? The possibility of him being the first muggle to find out about her was looking more and more likely with each day that passed.

But fuck Will with his big blue eyes and sworm of lovable dogs. How could you say no to a face like his and Wilsons?

"One session. I mean it Will, if i don't like it, I'm out."

Will nodded distractedly at her answer. He was busy fiddling with the sheets like she was.

"That's all I'm asking Hermione."

Hermione seperated the shephards pie in half, giving the spare spoon to Will. Will settled in beside her in the back and the both of them basked in the quiet time, eating the hot meal. Just the two of them, talking about old times and non-consquental things. It was what Hermione needed right then.

* * *

And that was how Hermione found herself in a waiting room, on edge and twitchy, on a saturday morning with a crisp cold in the air. Being away from Will made rue the day she agreed to his idea with each tick of the fancy clock hanging on the wall.

The clocks ticking felt like it was counting down until the firing squad would arrive. As soon as the big hand touched twelve and the small hand touched ten, the door to her right swong open and out came a short, portly bearded man, dressed in what looked like his best suit.

"Thanks for your time once again Dr. Lecter. I really do enjoy our hour together."

Hannibal appeared behind him from the vast room, smiling pleasently as he unbottoned his suit jacket.

"Until next week Franklyn. Take care."

The man left down the hallway and Hermione found herself alone with the tall doctor. Standing up she cautiously walked over and Hannibals face brightened up at her appearance.

"Ah, Hermione. If I'm truthful, i did not expect you to come. A pleasant surprise non the less."

Hermione pulled the sleeves of her thick jumper down, fiddling with the hem of the sleeve. God, she wished she had her time turner. One word was all she needed to say to answer the un-asked question hanging in the air. Why did she turn up?

"Will."

Hannibal stepped aside for Hermione to walk in and she did. The room was large and spacious. Deep red walls splattered with works of art and an upstairs balcony wrapping around three of the walls, filled to the brim with books. A large stone fireplace took up the wall under the balcony, Hannibals desk standing proudly in front of it. The opposite wall housed three large windows that morphed into one monstrous one. In the middle of the room stood two seats facing eachother, a glass table in the middle. Off by the window was the iconic psychiatrist chair/recliner. Hermiones heart spluttered and she froze in the entry way like a deer caught in the headlights.

There was no vantage point. No where she could sit where she could take watch of the entire room. There was attack points everywhere. The only safe place being Hannibals desk and she very well couldn't sit on that.

"Please, take a seat."

Hermione came to and gave Hannibal a weary glance. Forcing her feet to move she walked over to the chair facing the door, the best option out of a shitty lot. Sitting down, she glanced behind her and forced herself to look forward. Stop glancing backwards, don't glance backwards.

"You don't like this room very much do you Hermione?"

Hermione sat deadly still, hands clutched together tightly in her lap, knuckles white as the skin was pulled taunt against the bone. Spine ruler straight.

"Not particularly, no. The art is splendid though."

Hannibal sat down in the chair opposite her, legs crossed and flicked open a leather bound notebook, popping the lid of a golden fountian pen and started scribbling away. Two minutes in and he had already picked up something from her. Complete fucking hell. That's what this was.

"You find, normally in people three times your age and been through mutiple wars, they take note of all entrances and exits. Normally only picking the seat they class as a crows nest. How long have you been doing this Hermione?"

Hermione tried to soften her posture but it wouldn't budge.

"Quite a while Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal wrote down some more. Hermione wanted to burn the book, burn this room down until nothing stood but ashes in the wind.

"I thought we had gotten to first name basis Hermione. Friendship normally requires such."

Hermione forced herself to lean back in the seat, her spine still straight making it uncomfortable.

"Well, we're patient and doctor now Dr. Lecter. It seems inappropriate."

Hannibal dropped his pen into the crease of the book and regarded her in a way that made her uncomfortable, even more so than she already was.

"This isn't a normal patient and doctor scenario. In other cases, yes it would be inappropriate. However now, i think it is perfectly acceptable. Think of this as friends getting to know eachother better."

She didn't want him to get to know her better. Didn't want anyone to get to know her better. They would dart at the first chance they got. Hermione simply nodded.

"I don't do well with friendship...Hannibal... It's not in my skill set. Neither party normally comes out okay in the end."

Hannibal picked up his pen and started writing again. The morning light making the pen glisten prettily.

"I'm sure i can handle it. Now, lets get started shall we? Lets start with something easy, when you close your eyes and think of what you wish to be doing, what do you see?"

Hermione didn't need to close her eyes. She knew what she would like to be doing if her life hadn't ended up the way it had. It felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

"Backpacking. Visiting the old countries, looking at their architecture. Like Istandbul, Budapest, moscow. Taking photos along the way, only stopping to sleep."

"How do you find your sleep?"

What a loaded question. Hermione went back to fiddling with the hem of her jumper, picking and pulling at the wool. It was a bad habit.

"Hardly. When i do sleep, they are filled with things that are best forgotten. And some, some i don't want to wake up from."

Hermione was earnest when she told Will she would try. She would answer every question she could, of course leaving out anything even remotely related to magic, because maybe Will was right and this could help. At least to keep the dreams away.

"And what do these dreams partake of? The ones you don't wish to remember and the ones you hold on so tightly too."

Hermione swallowed, trying to formulate the words she needed to get out.

"You've seen my scars doc- Hannibal. Will told me, you already know what i want to forget."

Hannibals head tilted towards the side, Hermione looked out the window. Not wanting to make eye contact. For once being in Wills shoes.

"And what about the others Hermione?"

Hermione chuckled. This was when he was going to realize how crazy she was.

"The very same. No difference. Crazy right?"

Hannibals lips twitched upwards at the corners as he wrote something short down in the red book.

"Not at all Hermione. What you went through, it changes a person. You dread these dreams because they put you back into the body of the old you, a skin that no longer fits. Yet you latch onto them because you know the rules, know what's coming and when. You have no such comfort in the waking world. Do you want to talk about how you obtained those scars? About your parents?"

Hermiones left eye grimaced slightly but she helf onto her mask, like a dingy in the vast ocean.

"Simple really. I got captured by a madman. A year later i escaped. I foolishly ran for my parents and led him straight to them. They didn't survive, i did. I've been hunt-... Tasked with tracking him down ever since."

Hermione internally winced at her slip of 'hunting'. She let her lips get too loose. It wouldn't happen again.

"And your parents? You carry the guilt of their deaths with you?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, rubbing a knuckle with her thumb.

"Yes, partly."

"What else do you feel towards them?"

Hermione cursed Wills name in her mind. These were things she never wanted to think, let alone give voice to. But she had promised, and Hermiones promises were sacred to her. If she didn't have her word, what did she have?

"Resentment. In a sick way i hate them for dying. I survived, why coulsn't they? They gave up to soon. In frank? They left me behind and i hate them for it."

Hannibal nodded and wrote down what he had found. His pen gliding over the paper.

"You don't hate them Hermione. You hate they gained peace, while you're still trapped in the nightmare you've never really left. Lets talk about Will, you're very close to him, correct?"

Hermione glimpsed up and then looked back to her hands.

"Yes. He's like a brother to me."

"Yet you shy away from him when he gets too close."

He had picked up on that had he?

"I don't want to be a burden. I think if he gets to close, he'll fade away. Like a mirage in the desert. Just smoke and mirrors."

Hannibal once agains dropped his pen down, this time squarly looking at her. She could feel the weight of his stare.

"Its more than that. Your scared that if he gets to close, he'll run from what he will see."

Hermione chuckled. She couldn't blame Will if he did.

"I would run if given the chance Hannibal."

He smiled at her, a true smile as he folded his hands in his lap.

"I like to think i've seen more than anyone in a long time, i haven't ran away yet."

His words, with his smooth accent, wrapped around her like a velvet blanket. Soft and lulling. A false sense of security. He was right though, he had seen more than many people had and he was still sitting there.

"Well, you must have something wrong with you too."

His smile grew wider.

"Everyone has something wrong with them Hermione. No one is fully sane and stable. There's no such thing. It's nothing but a construct by society. Feel this way, think that way. It helps people set up imaginary bounderies. Now, why wont you go see Abigail?"

Hermione made eye contact and regretted the decision immediatly. She couldn't break away.

"I see myself in her. Before life took me down this path. She'll want answers, reassurance and retribution. Something no one can give her but herself. I'm not the type of hand that she needs in helping shape her. I've always been a rather rubbist sculpter."

His eyes were blue and green and brown and... Red. What a startling mix.

"Maybe what she needs is exactly you. Someone who can sympathise wit her position, but not pity. Someone to show her how the world works for survivors.

The light glinted of his leather shoe and it distracted her for a moment, looking like a raised knife going in for the kill, like Hobbs. But soon she found her eyes drawn back to his.

"Maybe. I still have a day to decide."

Hannibal closed the book in his lap and placed the pen and book on the table in front of them. Obviously done with his notes.

"Tell me, why do you hide so well, refuse to let anyone peek under the camouflage you so diligently paint on every day? What do you fear most?"

Hermione nearly bit her tongue off to stop herself from answering, but this was for Will.

"Being alone."

Being alone in the darkness she found enshrouding her. With nothing but her own demons to keep her company. Hermione could picture no more apt version of Hell.

"Yet you let no one close. Is that not the same?"

Hermione steadied her frantic heart and breathed deeply, hoping to joke off how much this question and her answer affected her.

"That's why i'm here isn't it? That's what i need to work on."

"Yes and i hope with my help we can crack it. I do find myself growing ever more fond of your company Hermione."

The byzzer for their sessions end went off at the same time Hermiones phone started to ring. Jumping slightly and breaking the eye contact, she fished into her pocket and yanked out her phone, saying a quick hello. Will was on the other side and speaking a mile a minute.

Hermione stood up and edged towards the door.

"Mushrooms? You're sure? Blimey."

After a promise of a see you in a few. Hermione hung up and stared at her phone before pocketing it again. Work calls.

"Everything is okay i hope?"

Hermione glanced to her left and spotted Hannibal, not realizing she had stopped so close to him.

"Yes, well no. Several bodies have turned up. All apparently growing their own little garden of mushrooms. How bizarre. I don't suppose you have any anatomy training and you're free for the next few hours?"

What the hell was she saying? Why was she inviting him along? She was so sure this morning to turn up, endure the hour and then find someone else. That was the plan, Hermione never deviated from a plan.

"In fact i used to be a surgeon. Let me grab my coat and we can be off."

Too late now to take back her invitation. And oddly, Hermione found she didn't want to. Maybe because she had opened up to him the most she had to anyone in years, even if it was a forced action. It made her shoulders feel lighter and she didn't want the feeling to go away. After all, if she did slip up, magically, an obliviate was always at the tip of her wand.

"Great. To be honest, mushroom growing corpses are something you don't see everyday. I would hate for you to miss it. I dare say it's a once in a life time chance."

He smiled as he opened the door and let her through, the two walking towards the exit. He looked at her with an emotion she couldn't pin-point. She had a funny feeling when he spoke he wasn't talking about her statement.

"once in a life time indeed."

When they stepped out into the slightly cold air, Hermione felt lighter. Finding it settling and... Happy to have someone to walk beside her out into the world. If she was not careful, she could get used to this.

* * *

 **Hermione and Hannibal will be growing closer from now on. In the Hannibals timeline they are heading into the second episode of season one. Every chapter will house a flashback of Hermiones past and next chapter, well it's an important flashback, her escape from Malfoy mannor. Her killer wont be showing up much in the next few chapters, but he will eventually make an appearane. I want Hermione to hold real ties to these people before she does. To make what i'm planning feel more real.**

 **I don't really do the whole love at first sight and with my Hermione and Hannibal, i think it would be practically impossible for this to happen. There both smart, and attraction is there but there deeper souls and wont just go Oh his/shes good looking let me tell all my secrets and skip of into the rainbow. IF thats the story you want, well i'm sorry but this isn't the right one for you.**

 **Yes Hannibal knows how odd it was for Hermione to hear the phone call, but he can't say anything without outing himself as the one who rang. His more curious as to how she got there so fast then threatened by her hearing the phone call. It's a puzzle and Hannibal loves puzzles. Which the Hermione i've constructed is like a cluster of puzzles to him.**

 **WELL I HOPED YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER! PLEASE REVIEW, IT FEEDS MY MUSE. UNTIL NEXT TIME - AlwaysEatTheRude21**


	3. Firewhisky part 1

_WARNING-_ _Torture and bloody scenes ahead.  
_

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor._

 _Today was the day. No ifs, buts or hows, today... Tonight, tomorrow, yesterday, time got mingled and distorted in Hermiones mind now, morphing into an entity that had no hold or bearing over her. It didn't matter, she would leave this hell hole, her pathway carved in blood and mangled bodies if need be._

 _The death-eaters were rigid, organized and relied heavily on routine. That would be their downfall, that and their underestimation of Hermione herself. They just did not realize how predictable they were. She would use that to her advantage._

 _Hermiones eyes flickered over to the oddly angled dead body crammed up against the rotting, putrid walls of her cell. The once peachy skin was now mottled with blues, grays and blacks. Rigamortis settled in hours ago, but not before Hermione had collected what she needed._

 _Looking down to her blood smeared hands, she distantly realized how animal like she had became, less human and more feral. It didn't matter, time didn't matter, people didn't matter, not any more, only getting herself out of this pit and as far away as possible mattered._

 _Have you ever ripped into a leg and tore out a shin bone from a corpse? Hermione had, just another skill she could add to her set she had collect at Malfoy manor. The tool... The girl was no older than Hermione. She was brought in a month ago, or was it a year? Squalling, teary, screaming for mercy and her mother and father. Hermione had laughed, their was no mercy, no loving mothers and fathers in Malfoy manor. Only pain, nightmares and terrible deaths._

 _The girl had murky blonde hair and even duller brown eyes. But most importantly? She was weak. Hermione knew straight off the bat, the waif of a girl would only last a few Weeks when she was catapulted into her cell, or was it a few years? It didn't matter, she had died bloody and crying like the rest of the ones shoved into her cell._

 _It had become a sort of game to Hermione, something to split up the monotonous torture and taunts of her guards. She was placed in the cell right by the entrance of the dungeons, stairs and door right in her eye-line. Another joke on her, show her how close freedom was but to let her know it was out of her reach. Always out of reach. Hermione would have the last laugh._

 _They would parade the new prisoners in front of her cell, in hopes of having her react, cry and scream and shout for their lives. Hermione didn't shout or scream for her own life anymore. Hermione stayed silent, stonily still as she just watched as the new toys were marched past her, dead, dead, dead, dead. That one would die from starvation, that one would die from the cruciatus curse, that one would be beheaded. Picturing the other prisoners death helped her not focus on her own immanent one._

 _When the death-eaters caught on that their poor tactics were not working, they began to chuck the new prisoners in with her. Hoping she would get attached and break once they finally did die. But that wouldn't work when the first thing Hermione did when seeing someone was to picture their death. They were already corpses to her, already gone from this world._

 _The only difference was these ones moved and cried. The crying she could do without, but there was no point in killing the already dead when their tears grew to much for her to handle. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Everyone was already dead. Not one she had seen would survive this hell, but she would._

 _Instead of getting attached, Hermione plotted and schemed. The death-eaters had three weakness, arrogance, predictability and the people they kept throwing into her cell. Hermione was going to exploit all three._

 _While the rest in the dungeon shouted and prayed to people who would never come, Hermione watched. Watched the death-eaters in the foyer when she was in for another round of 'interrogation', watched as she was dragged to the foyer, watched the guards._

 _She knew who would be where and when, whose shift was what. When she did catch the death-eaters talking to each other, she had a revelation. They were just as vicious to each other then anyone else. Verbal arguments often broke out, giving Hermione the much needed information of which button to press on who and what reaction she would get. She didn't need to guess or torture the information out, they had shown her their vulnerabilities themselves. The bloody fools. Underestimation indeed._

 _While they tortured her, laughed at her, imperioused her, spat their venom, Hermione had watched them. It made her infinitely more dangerous than anyone realized. But they would never know, they couldn't fathom that a lowly mudblooded bitch like her even had a brain. Her blood may have been mud, but theirs were poison. It would eat them from the inside out while hers would harden into stone and protect her._

 _Hermione huddled closer to the damp corner of her cell when she heard the tell tale sign of the heavy dungeon door swooping open. Tick tock, tick tock, Alecto Carrow was right on time. Hermione enshrouded herself in the facade of a broken and defeated lion cub, they would know no better, death-eaters only saw what they wanted to. Arrogance at its finest. They wanted to see Hermione crumpled at their feet, so they shall, right before she slit their throats that is._

 _They had given her too much time, too much time to plan, practice and adapt to the bleak world she found herself in. It was as much apart of her as she was of it now. They had created a monster._

 _They should have sent an Avada Kedavra her way as soon as she had stepped foot on the marble flooring of Malfoy manor. She wished they had, or was that the old her wishing? It didn't matter. Wishing got you nowhere and now? Now they were going to see first hand what they had let grow in the dungeons._

 _Heeled footsteps clacked closer to her cell bars, echoing across the vast, frigid room, breaking up the quiet sobs and gasps of pain from the other occupants. Her mothers voice danced in her head and Hermione found herself speaking along, voice husky and croaky from unused vocal cords._

 _"Will you walk into my parlor, said the Spider to the fly, 'tis the prettiest little parlor that you ever did spy."_

 _A small slicing hex hit her upper thigh, Hermione didn't even flinch at the harsh stinging. Slicing hexs meant nothing to her anymore. It didn't matter._

 _"Finally lost it? Come on mudblood, i can see you cowering in the corner, come out and play with Alecto like a good little pet."_

 _Hermione faked a flinch. She just had to give them what they wanted for a few minutes more, or was it an hour? It would all be over soon. Digging her arms and shaven head closer to her chest, hiding her left arm against the wall as she slid it under her rags and grasped the sticky, sleek object resting at her rib cage. Hermione glanced to the other end of her small cell, making sure the... girls legs were out of view._

 _"I TOLD YOU TO GET OVER HERE! Or do you need more education you mongrel? Mmm?"_

 _Poor predictable Alecto. So arrogant, so sure of herself. Hermione was going to enjoy this more than she ever should. Alecto huffed and came closer to the bars, fat face pressed against the rusty bars. Just as Hermione wanted._

 _"You know how good my dear Antonin is at getting into other peoples heads, silly me, of course you do. Who was that man you had buried deep down so well? Walker? Wells? Will? Yes, Will. Should i go and fetch him? Have a little tea party like we did with all your other family members? Claire , your cousin, was my favorite, shame you got so jealous. I mean, strangling a guest? How uncivilized. I'm sure once we find mummy and daddy, you can tell them what a bad mudblood you've been. Of course only if you aren't imperioused to strangle them. Tell me, how did it feel to have your hands around her neck as you watched her turn blue? Did you like it, it looked like you liked it."_

 _Hermione snapped, a few minutes, an hour, it didn't matter, her escape happened now. Jumping forward like a loaded spring, she slammed her open palm against Alectos right shoulder through the bars. It made the short but fatter woman lose balance in her heels, and in a last ditch effort to stay standing, she span around just right._

 _Snatching up the back of Alectos cloak, Hermione pulled hard causing Alecto to smash back against the bars. Alectos head crashed into the iron bars with a loud, rattling thunk, that one sound made Hermione swell with happiness. Alecto was disorientated enough to not put up a fight as Hermione acted._

 _In quick succession, Hermione slammed her hand over Alectos mouth, pinning her head and stopping all shouts from bubbling forth. Whipping out the tacky shin bone, Hermione whacked it against the bars, breaking off a large chunk, smiling as she held the jagged end with white knuckles. Wrapping her arm around Alectos chunky side, Hermione placed her makeshift weapon just under her jaw, prodding at the soft flesh. The sharp point drawing a trickle of blood down Alectos neck._

 _"Don't worry about your dear Antonin, no ones going to need to imperio me to strangle that bastard like he did to me with Claire. I promise, one by one, you're all going to pay for everthing you did. You loved the slicing hexs didn't you Alecto? Die by how you live. You should have killed me. Every single one of you should have killed me."_

 _Without another word uttered or thought, Hermione twisted the bone upwards, angling it slightly to the back of Alectos skull, forcing the bone to tear through flesh and brain matter. Hermione let the body drop as soon as it slumped. She needed her strengh for what was to come. This was only the first stage of her escape, many more death-eaters, wards and traps laid in her way. Bending down, she ruffled through Alectos cloak, plucking out the keys and the womans wand, she unlocked her cells door and stepped out into equally disgusting hallway._

 _Eyeing the winding stone staircase, Hermione wanted to laugh. Putting her near the stairs didn't break her, it gave her something to fight for. Hope. Something none of the death-eaters she would run into on her escape would ever had. It was time to pay the pied piper._

 _"Oh no, no, said the little Fly, to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair ,can ne'er come down again."_

* * *

Hermione stared hard at the fungi covered body in front of her. It didn't unsettle her or make her nauseous like many of the other attending police department. She thought it was quite poetic in a way, they had all came from bacteria in the beginning, and so they should end up as such in the end. Give and take and all that jazz.

Hannibal Lecter was crouched just to her right, latex covered hands poking and prodding at the bodies dirty flesh. Hermiones eyes were more drawn to the intravenous drip inserted into the corpses hands. A clear liquid staying tranquilly still in the half empty bags. Looking back over to the bodies, Hermione looked closely to the mans arm. Small pin pricks loitered his veins in his arm and on closer look, his thighs.

Hermione jumped up from her crouched position and moved to the other body next to it, a female in her late thirties. Looking closely, Hermione saw the same marks on her. Backing up a few step, making the people behind her scuttle away, she looked back to the first body she was looking at. One of his toes on his left foot was missing.

"Any idea Will?"

Hermione ignored Jack Crawford as she examined the two bodies in front of her, the least decomposed of the lot. She idly listened to Will, as explanations and theories came and went from her mind, Will started explaining his findings to a worried Crawford.

"He takes care of them, their his own little garden. He digs the graves in fresh rich soil, these mushrooms are not a by product of his killings, they're the end prize. He wants them to grow, to nourish. Why them? How they are chosen? How he got them here when they have no outside evidence of trauma? I have no clue but he's going to want to start a new garden when he finds out we ruined this one. This is his hobby, his passion, his artwork. he's not going to be happy with this at all."

Hermione walked across the short distance to one of the bags and snatched it of its hook, ripping the pipe out of it with a sharp tug, turning it upside down to stop the liquid from spilling out.

"Hey! Don't do that, we don't know what's in there, it could be highly dangerous! And it's evidence!"

Hermione swotted away the lab assistance with a flick of her wrist and a ferocious glare etched onto her face.

"Shut up, back off and do something useful like getting me some salt."

The weedy man backed up and jogged to his case of equipment once his shock had worn off, rummaging through god knows what. Will, Jack and Hannibal turned towards her and headed her way. Once the man got back with a little bottle, Hermione tore the hole even bigger and popped the lid of the vile of salt, tipping only a pinch into the solution. No reactions came, only the the small grains of salt melting into the liquid. Not salt water then, it meant she was right in her line of thinking.

"Diabetics. The lot of them are Diabetic. There's small needle pin pricks in the arms and thighs, most likely on the stomach as well if there wasn't mushrooms currently growing out of them. That newest ones missing a toe, most likely lost it due to diabetic infection. This guys a Doctor, with a predilection towards chemicals and Medicinal... Ah... A pharmacist. He's tampering with their insulin, knows their addresses because he gives out the medication, follows them home and then takes them here. Easy prey, And this dangerous liquid as you so called it is simply sugar water to help grow the fungi and keep them in their comas long enough for fertilization."

Hermione jammed the bag towards the Lab assistant and turned back to the little crowd around her. Jack was smiling from ear to ear nearly, Will was nodding, both of their findings fitting together like two well sawed jigsaw pieces and Hannibal was watching. It unnerved her a little, but she didn't let it show. Showing emotions was showing your weakness's.

"Will can tell you why it happened , Hermione can tell you how. Shit, you two make an amazing team. Are you sure you don't want a new job Hermione? We could really use both of you on cases like these. God knows they pop up enough"

Hermione grimaced at Crawfords offer before smiling and shaking her head. She had spent enough time around dead bodies, an actual job in that field of work was not something Hermione wanted in on.

"Sorry, no can do. But i will say that if you find out who these people are, look for their pharmacy, they will all go to the same one, your killers there. If we're done here, i need to go."

Hermione began walking away, but Hannibal strolled into her path. Hermione looked up and met him head on. How could one mans eyes be so piercing?

"Don't you want to see this through Hermione?"

Hermione looked back at the dead bodies and scoffed. She knew what she had to do now, it was time to face her own actions. Her office and tracking down her killer would have to wait just a few more hours.

"Not really, no. I've done my bit, Will can do the rest. He's good at this kind of thing."

Hannibal eyed her, making her shift uncomfortable under his searching gaze. Did he always look for hidden meanings or was she imagining it? She mentally chanted for him to look away, to break eye contact. He never did.

"Ah yes, your killers still on the loose. Does Will know he is more than likely a target? That is why you are so preoccupied by him isn't it? Catch the killer before the killer catches Will. It's a dangerous game to play Hermione. Maybe you should follow Wills advice and let people help you on this case."

Hermione froze. How difficult was this one man going to make her life? He was baiting her, why he wanted other people in the direct line of fire, Hermione had no idea. Either he was scouting for her weaknesses, which he already knew was Will, he was curious about her killer and wanted more facts, or he was seeing how Hermione reacted, to see if she would allow them so close to something so personal, to see and know about something so close to the her she kept hidden and in turn, see the her she kept out of sight. None boded well for her. He knew too much already. That was her fault, she wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"No. I can handle this."

Hermione walked away before he could say anymore, leaving him alone, standing away from everyone else. He was getting too good at putting her on the spot, too good at seeing things that shouldn't be seen. That needed to end. She couldn't falter now. Not because of a psychiatrist of all things.

Walking away, Hermione saw a woman slyly taking photos of the crime scene, digital camera lens pointing at Will and Crawford and the dead bodies. Journalist. Sighing and rolling her eyes skywards, Hermione stormed over to the red head.

Snatching the camera from the surprised woman, she deleted all the photos and shoved it back to the woman, hitting her in the chest with more force than she had meant to. As the red head scuttled to grab it in time, Hermione took out a notepad and half empty bull point pen, she scribbled down her name and phone number, ripping the slip of paper free, she gave the scrawled digits and name over to the woman.

"Here's my number and name, ring me later so i have your number, when i do decide to ring back, you come running. I won't tell Crawford about your little undercover recon mission and you wont be thrown into jail. Fair trade."

Hermione turned around and walked back the way she came, ignoring the indignant cries of outrage coming from behind her. You never knew when a journalist would come in handy, especially a corrupt one. The redheads skills may come in handy one day, and if not, well no harm no foul.

Halfway back to her car, Hermione heard Will shouting her name.

"Were are you going Hermione?"

Hermione stopped and turned around, trying to keep calm and balanced from the shit day she was having. Hermione smiled, she hated brushing off Will but she had something to do that she could no longer stall.

"Listen, come around to my place tomorrow, have tea over at mine, we've hardly seen each other lately and some down time with my love-able cousin sounds great, especially if it doesn't involve dead bodies or murderers, but right now i really do need to go."

Will gave his signature lopsided smile as he nodded.

"Yeah, i think that sounds good to. Stay safe... Where are you going? Not after your mad man alone are you? "

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. When she did find out where he was, Will would only now when she either came back with her killers corpse, or somebody found hers.

"No, but i am going to the nut house."

Hermione began turning around but Wills voice stopped her.

"Nut house?"

Hermione chuckled and carried on walking towards her car. Will, the dutiful, surrogate brother Hermione could say she loved with all her heart, if the word love was to ever actually pass her lips, kept up with her strides to escort her back to the car. Hermione internally cringed when she thought that he wouldn't be so chivalrous if he knew the truth about Hermione. He tracked down killers for a living, and no matter which way you painted it, Hermione was a killer. She didn't deserve his love or his... Will-ness antics.

"I'm off to see Abigail Hobbs."

* * *

Hermione stood silently in the white hallway, nurses and doctors bustling around her, peering through the little glass window on the hospital rooms door. Her resolved weakened when she had finally came to the door, what was she even doing here? Abigail needed anyone but Hermione around her right now, and Hermione didn't need the distraction. This meeting would not help either of them, only cause more problems on the already tall pile Hermione had.

So why had she dropped everything to be here? Hermione wasn't stupid, she deeply knew her own flaws. She was stubborn, ruthless when riled, and obviously was a masochist with the way she was so adamant to torment herself with things she could not change. She had killed Abigails father, was she sorry? Hell no. Could she change it? No. This whole thing was pointless.

Grievous to admit though, she saw a little of herself in Abigail Hobbs. She hated the girl for it, she knew were it would lead her. Death and more death. If she could just show her that, for if she saw herself in Abigail, then the girl must see herself in Hermione to. If Abigail saw what she would become, maybe she would be one of the lucky few to escape the path she found herself on. It just depended on how much alike Abigail was.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione grabbed the round metal door knob, twisted and pushed the thick door open, stepping into the florescent lights with her head held high and back straight.

Abigail was sitting up in her metal framed bed, wrapped in thin woolen blankets and propped up by pillows, staring straight at Hermione. Abigail was pale with straight, deep brown hair cascading down her slim shoulders and held woodland green eyes. Pretty and delicate. Something was laying underneath the fragile surface, a core of hot iron. The two contradicted each other, one was not as real as the other and Hermione was willing to bet it was the frail teen act.

Strolling to the uncomfortable looking chair by Abigails bedside, Hermione did what she did best, watched and observed. Settling down into the chair, Hermione gave Abigail a hard look, by the end of this meeting, she was going to find out just who Abigail was, how much she was like Hermione and in turn, how much of a threat.

"Surely you didn't demand for me to come all this way just to stare at me Abigail?"

Abigail, who had been fiddling with a loose bit of wool stalled her hands, blinking owlishly at Hermione. Act. She was good, but not that good.

"You're British."

Hermione chuckled. What a first impression this was turning out to be. Both pretending to be someone they weren't as they both eyed each other up. Hermione was better at this than the girl in front of her.

"And you're American."

Abigail broke eye contact and glanced down at her hands, flexing the fingers hard as she thought, eyebrows drawn tight over her big eyes. Hermione could swear she could hear the cogs turning in the teens head.

"I don't belong in this hospital. I'm fine, he... My dad didn't get to me."

Hermione huffed at the naivety of the girl and the down right poor play she was trying to poker face through to Hermione. Nice try, but no where near good enough.

"Physically, yes. Mentally is a whole other can of worms. Is that why I'm here? To put a face to your fathers killer and to hopefully spring you from her comfy prison? Trust me on this, this hospital is the best place you can be. It's like battle royale out there with all the news tabloids."

Abigail sank back into her nest of pillows and blankets, looking ever more like a little robin with its wings broken.

"Is it really that bad? The nurses wont let me read the paper or watch the news ever since i woke up here after... After. I've been totally cut off, i just want one hour outside."

Hermione sighed, she knew that feeling of being caged to well. But Abigails confinement and hers were totally different. Abigail has sweet nurses and doctors to great, Hermione had death-eaters and mind games.

"What we want isn't always what we get. It's something we all learn at one point or another."

Hermiones tone had grown soft, despite herself. It was something they shared, learning that lesson the hard way.

"You know, before all this, all i wanted was to go to college. I can't even do that anymore."

Hermiones fingers tapped away to Vivaldi winter on the chairs armrest. Something was there, she just needed to dig a little deeper.

"Why not? Get away from it all while you can."

Abigail frowned even harder as a dark shadow passed over her eyes and took up home. Voice devoid of emotion as she spoke. Detached.

"Every college i put into had one of my fathers victims going as well. I'm always going to be known as the daughter of a killer."

Click. Once again it all fell into place, Hermione had got her. See, not as good as Hermione. She would have never made such a rookie move, even when she was sixteen. Laughing, Hermione leaned forward, invading Abigails space. The girl was a lot like her, to much for comfort, just not with Hermiones skills or quiet as quick thinking. Not yet at least.

"No, not now you aren't. You're always going to be the little girl who helped daddy dearest kill her doppelgangers. Now Abigail, that's a dark legacy."

Abigail shot back out of her blankets, panic masquerading as disbelief swirling across her face, making everything tense.

"I-I-I don't know what you mean!"

Now it was Hermiones turn to flop back into her seat. It was way to late for Abigail to try and back track, she had let the bull out.

"Really? Just ten minutes ago you said you knew nothing of the outside world before you passed out after your dad came after you, now not only do you know their was seven victims, but you knew where they were going to college? The only way you would have known that was if you knew about your dads after school proclivities. Did you help? Or did you just sit by and watch? Doesn't matter, you're an accessory to murder either way."

Abigail floundered for words before she spoke, pitch slightly higher before due to her anxiety.

"Agent Crawford told me when he came to visit!"

Hermiones laugh was loud this time, enough to echo around the tiled room.

"Pull the other one, Jack didn't tell you anything. He's already suspicious of you, he wouldn't risk the investigation by telling anyone who didn't need to know."

Abigail turned away from her, eyes darting around the place as she tried to come up with a feasible answer that would never come. Hermione had caught her, there was no use in trying to cover it up or redirect her.

There was three options Hermione could take. One, she could ring Jack Crawford right then and there, Abigail would be arrested and that would be that. Two, she could tell Abigail she would keep her secret, after all Hermione would be the biggest hypocrite of all if she damned the poor girl for doing all she could to survive. Hermione had done worse, a lot worse. Claires pleading eyes flashed before her eyelids and Hermione wanted to throw up. _Push back, lock down._

Three, she could use this. Protect the girl but throw Hannibal a curve ball, the muggle man was too clever, Hermione was sure it would only be a matter of time before he figured her out, if she however got Abigail to see him, to speak to him about her deep daddy issues, he would be distracted. Hopefully long enough for Hermione to off her killer and keep her sole focus on protecting Will instead of having to watch her actions and words around Hannibal.

Her heart twinged a little. She was so willing to use this girl for her own means, damned Abigail or the damage this could cause her. All to protect Will. But that was the funny thing. This had never been a question of what she would do for Will, this was what she WOULDN'T do for Will. Not many things made that list.

Reaching over she clasped the girls hand and stretched her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile, inside she swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She needed to do this, if Hannibal figured out what she was, what she was capable of, she would have to leave and leave Will with her killer surrounding him like a vulture.

"Don't worry, i wont say anything. I know what it's like to... Do what you have to to survive. However, i want you to speak to Dr. Lecter, about all of it. It will help."

Abigail swallowed thickly and tears swam in her eyes. Hermione watched them like a hawk, dancing on the edge of her eyelashes, refusing to fall down her rosy cheek. Hermione felt nothing for the girls sadness. No sympathy, no regret at using her like a pawn, no need to comfort the frail Abigail. It was the way the world worked, she obviously new the horrors of it by helping her father, if she was going to carry on living, she would need to grow thick skin and fast.

Every flicker of emotion that fluttered across your face was another weapon some one else could use against you. Weakness's, the lot of it. Hermione refused to be weak and either Abigail grew stronger or she would die. Mother nature at its best. If Hermione looked at it that way, she could pretend she was helping, saving the girl from any future pain, but she knew deep down she was just as like the people she hunted down. Maybe worse... Always worse.

"Wont he tell agent Crawford what i did?"

Hermione chuckled. Dry and humorless. Unlikely due to him covering for her when Will questioned her bulls-eye shot of Hobbs, but still possible. Even if he did, it still gave Hermione time to do what she had to. It was odds Hermione was willing to bet if it meant Wills protection, even if by the end Abigail ended up in a orange jumpsuit and behind bars. There was far worse endings one could meet.

"Doctors confidentiality at its best, you tell them you ARE going to kill some one and they have to report it, tell them you already have? Their hands are tied behind their back. If i was you i would use that to get my demons off my chest. Maybe you can still go to college if you sort through your feelings and thoughts."

The words felt bitter on Hermiones tongue. Stinging as they left her mouth. It was a low blow to throw out what Abigail wanted most, but she needed to bait her hook with something juicy. There was a chanting in Hermiones head, _for Will, for Will, for Will_. This broken girl meant nothing to her, not even close to Will, she was nothing, a distraction, a tool to use.

No matter what she told herself, she felt awful for what she was doing. It wasn't that long ago she was the broken girl, all alone. She had people who used her, who baited her for what they wanted, where were the death-eaters? Where is their hide out? Come on Hermione, if you tell us we can help you find your family, we can protect them. All lies, all to get her to open up. She had eventually broken out, but it fucked her up more than she already was. She had to wade through it alone, and so would Abigail. All because of her.

The girl closed her eyes and sucked in a shaky breath, blowing it slowly out of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she leveled with Hermione, smiling. The bile was back full force, burning her throat. _For Will, for Will, for Will._

"Okay. Thank you for coming, i really need some one in my corner right now. People out their wouldn't know what it was like. Thank you... For everything"

Hermione bolted out of the seat and to the hospital door. She couldn't stay here, couldn't speak to her anymore. Not when she was thanking her for Hermiones manipulations and lies. Hermione held onto the door handle and spoke, refusing to turn back and look at a smiling Abigail. Couldn't stomach it. She was more like her killer every day, the revelation killed what ever hope for goodness left inside her. _For Will, for Will, for Will._

"He'll see you soon. I'm off, i have work to do. Goodbye Abigail."

Without waiting for answer, needing air and a glass of firewhisky disparately, she twisted open the door and stormed out, not glancing back once. She was getting good at that, not looking back at the carnage she always left behind.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR PREVIEW-**

 _Hannibal stood up to his imposing full height. Steadily without missing a beat, he walked over to his desk and plucked up the land line, circling back around to her stopping but a few feet away, close enough that if she extended her arm, she could touch him. Hannibal lifted his arm out halfway between them and held out the phone for her to take._

 _"Well then, if you truly don't care like you wish the world to believe, ring the police. Get Abigail arrested if she means nothing to you, get her locked away for simply doing what you did, surviving. Here Hermione, take the phone and prove how wrong i am about you."_

 **Up in the next chapter-  
**

A show down between Abigail, Hannibal and Hermione and Hermione pulls in someone to work for her.

 _ **Important:**_

I know, this chapter is kind of slow and there isn't much Hannibal and Hermione interaction, or much Will. But this is needed to link in with the plot, from now on the pace will be picking up speed.

The poem in the flash back is the spider and the fly, i just thought it really fit within the situation. I always imagined Hermiones mum reading poetry and old fairy tales to her, and with Hermiones fractured mind, i just thought she would fall back onto that comfort. In this chapter i really tried to show the two waring sides Hermione has, the one who literally doesn't care about anything, only focused on protecting Will no matter who got in her way, and the other part of her that hates herself for what she has done and is doing. I hope that came across.

This chapter was a part of the next one, but together they were well over 11,000 words and well i like big chapters, but even for me that was too long. **THE NEXT CHAPTER SHOULD BE OUT EITHER TOMORROW OR THE DAY AFTER THAT.**

Please review, it lets me know if you guys are liking where this is going. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Firewhisky part 2

**AN** \- Hello, I'm sorry to say this will be the last update until new year for this story. The next chapter will hopefully be out early January-ish. However, i do have the first chapters of my other stories ready to leave the press. The thing is i don't quiet know which ones I'm going to publish or not. So, seen as you people will be the ones reading them, i thought i would give you the basics and see which ones you like the sound of, if you could P.M me your choice or leave it in a review, i would be extremely thankful. Only **THREE** from the list will be published as i still obviously want enough time to put my efforts into this story as well. So here they are:

Jessica Jones/Harry Potter - **Hermione/Kilgrave**

Vikings/Harry Potter- **Hermione/Ragnar**

Heroes/Harry Potter- **Hermione/Sylar**

Strain/Harry Potter- **Vaun/Hermione/Quinlan**

Dare devil/Harry Potter- **Hermione/Matt Murdock**

If you don't feel like PMing me or Reviewing, I'm going to set up a poll on my homepage, so **PLEASE** vote in that. I Will be closing the Poll on **JANUARY 2ND** or if you are reading this on my TWCS account, please go to my account Fanifiction .net- the same user name- and vote.

Beware ALL spelling mistakes are mine as i have no Beta.

Right, with all that over and done with i would like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You guys are the best.

And to everyone- PLEASE ENJOY! :)

-AlwaysEatTheRude21

* * *

 _The Burrow- one month after Hermiones escape from Malfoy manor._

 _Hermione sat as still as she could in the stiff wooden kitchen chair. Silent and pale, scarred and bruised,listening and watching the people around her bustle about, laying a feast out on the table she had been pushed down to sit at._

 _They were her friends, her family, now they were just strangers, people she knew she shouldn't be weary of, but she could not shake off the need to back away. Slowly, she edged her hand onto the table, over to Georges plate and cutlery, grappling the shiny dinner knife, Hermione snatched it from the table and hid it in her lap._

 _They were all laughing and joking, they didn't see, didn't understand. Just because they thought they were safe in their home, didn't mean they were. Just outside their wonky front door lay a war, and here they were playing house. Hermione couldn't take it, she wanted to scream, shout, pull her god damn hair out due to their stupidity._

 _This was just as much as an act as everything else had been. Acting as if everything was okay, that everything was normal, that she was normal. They were trying to cram her back into the Hermione she used to be, but she didn't exist any more, maybe she never did to begin with._

 _No one spoke to her, they looked for sure, they gave her cautious glances when they thought she wasn't looking, but Hermione always looked, she always saw. Even Ron, with his loud mouth and incessant chatter didn't dare speak to her._

 _The healers from St. Mungos told her they were just worried about her, wanted her to heal and have her space. Hermione scoffed, no, the people around her knew how dangerous she was now, how unstable. They kept away because they didn't know her anymore, didn't know what had happened to her, what she could and would do. But Hermione refused to talk about it. So they came to a horrid stale mate._

 _Hermione gazed at the people around her, knife still clutched tightly in her hand. The order of the phoenix had taken her wand away before she had even woken up, said it was for her own safety, but Hermione knew. It was for their safety, not hers. They left her defenseless, surrounded by had been friends who were all armed with their own wands. Statistically, there were At least two people in this crowded kitchen who were death eaters, and they wouldn't even give her a damn butter knife for her food._

 _Not only was it more than likely someone within this very house was on the other side of the war, the chance of being ambushed or attacked right now was sky high. The Burrow was no secret, the Weasleys alliance to the light side was also no secret. Yet here they were, acting like death was not upon them._

 _Even when they were all seated and eating, the noise didn't stop, it seemed to grow as laughter boomed across the walls. Hermione hated it, how was she supposed to hear anyone sneaking up on her if they were all so loud? She couldn't, it just left her open for attack even more than she already was._

 _Hermiones dark gaze was drawn to the person sitting opposite her. Percy Weasley, scribbling away at scrolls as he nick picked at his food. For some reason she found herself watching him, alarm bells ringing in the base of her skull, making her body thrum with adrenaline. Something was off, so wrong about him._

 _"Did you hear about that attack on madame Paddyfoots? Thankfully they got everyone out in time, the Ministry thinks it's that Alecto Carrow woman. Merlin knows what that horrid woman would have done."_

 _Hermione wanted to laugh. Alecto Carrow would no longer be doing anything to the civilians, that shin bone had put a stop to that. It looked like Voldemort was keeping out any news of his death eaters deaths. Or at least the ones she took out on her escape. Couldn't be seen as being bested by a Mudblooded bitch after all. Poor for evil moral and all that. Hermiones mirth came to a staggering halt when Percy scoffed._

 _"It wasn't Alecto Carrow."_

 _It was basically a whisper in the void of Weasley shouts, but Hermione heard it like a beacon in the night. It was said with such conviction, it wasn't an opinion, just the stating of a fact. There was only a few people who would know that. The inner circle death eaters, and Hermione herself._

 _The wet, rotting walls of her cell flashed behind her eyelids and Hermiones jarred into action, the instinct for survival seizing her. With out any pre-amble, Hermione launched herself across the narrow table, crashing into Percy and sending them both slamming into the kitchen floor, Percys chair cracking and breaking under the pressure of their bodies and wooden floor boards._

 _Percy reached for his wand, but Hermione was faster. Grasping her blunt knife, she brought it down on his shoulder with all the strength she had, tearing through the joint and main tendons, twisting for good measure as his arm dropped uselessly to his side as he partially screamed and grunted in pain._

 _Hermione was just about to pull the knife free and go for Percys bared throat when she was tackled off of him by a disheveled Remus Lupin. Hermione tried to break free but Remus was faster and stronger than she was, especially in her still weakened state. It was only as Remus wrapped his arms around her to stop her arms that she realized she was speaking, shouting more like. Voice horse and low from lack of use._

 _"I killed her! He knows, he's one of them. Kill him, kill him, kill him!"_

 _Hermione kept shouting but no one was listening, only Remus. Molly and Author was trying to stem the bleeding with rags. While Ron and Ginny were looking at her like she was Voldemort in disguise. Remus grip loosened an inch as his voice cut through the hysteria and cries._

 _"Check his fore arm!"_

 _Molly spluttered her outrage, but Tonks jumped in, ripping of Percys oxford shirt sleeve, even as he tried to pull his limb away from the crowd of on lookers. For once in a long, long time, the Burrow grew startlingly quiet. The black ink of the dark mark shone even in the dimming light of the setting sun and sparse candle lighting._

 _Hermiones shouting had turned to shaky whispers, carrying on her mantra of 'Kill him'. Remus's restraining hold turned more into an embrace, running a hand up and down her still too thin shoulder and arm._

 _That was the day Hermiones friends realized she was never going to be the same girl they thought she would be, and thanks to the presence of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the ministry began to realize how skilled Hermione was in spotting and hunting down death eaters._

* * *

Hermione blinked wearily when the door to Hannibals office finally swung open, forcing herself to smile, she nodded her greeting and stepped into the cage of a room that masqueraded as a cozy psychiatrist office.

Once Hermione was a few feet in, heading towards the large windows, a barely audible shuffle from the balcony reached her ears. Someone was up there, and seen as Hannibal was already sat down, that meant they had a visitor. Hermiones head snapped round, head tilted up towards the balcony, eyes automatically zeroing in on the could be threat. There it was, a small shadow on the chrome bars. A woman.

"Some ones on your balcony."

Hannibal smiled... Or smirked... Or grinned, she could not tell you which one. It was a nice enough gesture, warm on the surface, but something other was lurking beneath, buried enough for Hermione not to be able to tell you what it was.

"I was going to wait until you had comfortably settled down. Well, you can come out now."

Hermione glanced back up to the bookcase and watched as the thin silhouette moved into the light and took shape before her eyes. When the womans face came into view, Hermione wanted to either laugh or turn around and deck that cocky, overly smart psychiatrist seated in front of her.

Abigail of all people stood at the railing, hands braced on the cold, shiny metal bars, smiling down at both Hermione and Hannibal. She was practically bouncing in her boots with excitement. The urge to toss her over the balcony she clung to reared its head but Hermione pushed it down. Today was going to be a bad day.

In the end, laughter won out and Hermione found herself letting loose, eyes twinkling as her laughter bounced off the walls. Shaking her head, she tried to push back the humor of it all, walking away from the window and to the seat she classed as hers, she sat down legs crossed at the ankles, hands straitening out her rumpled jumper as chuckles still escaped her.

"Well, you win some, you lose some. Sorry about that, it wont happen again."

Hermione watched as Hannibal sat as prim and proper in his seat as always and Abigail come blundering down the steps of the balcony, darting across the large office and plopped herself down on the iconic psychiatrist recliner, grinning nearly ear to ear.

"I do not think i understand Hermione. I simply brought Abigail here today because i believe that you can help heal one another."

All Hermiones good mood was shot down in that exact moment. Uncrossing her ankles, she leant forward and rested her elbows onto her knees, her hair, for once loose and unrestrained, fell over her shoulders and framed her face in a golden curly halo as she stared at Hannibal straight on. Something she grimaced at doing, but needed to do to get her point across. Hermione didn't spare Abigail another look, her sole focus on the intelligent man in front of her. You never take your eyes off of a prowling lion.

"Lets not play that game. I treated you as less smart than you actually are, and look where that got me. I'm afraid you'll come to the same conclusion if you treat me the same."

Forcible relaxing her rigid posture, Hermione leaned back into her chair, fiddling with the worn and slightly scuffed cuff of her leather jacket. Thinking and re-thinking her approach before she landed on the realization it was all pointless. Everyone in this room knew what each other knew. lying would get no one anywhere. Running a hand through her hair, Hermione decided to lay it out on the table and see were the tide would take her.

"Look Hannibal, i know you know what she did. You know that i know that you know. And well... Of course Abigail knows."

Hannibals steely gaze flickered to Abigail before coming back to pin her in her place. Hermione thought he was doing what she had only seconds before, thinking and re-thinking his tactic.

"Well, please inform me of why you sent her here Hermione? And not to the police department like you should have?"

It was a trick question of course, Hermione knew that. Hannibal knew exactly why she sent Abigail and her tragic story his way. To distract him. And worse of all, now he knew she wanted him distracted, leaving her in the disadvantage and out in the open. He knew she was trying to shield something from his quick observations and even quicker mind. Hermiones fingers twitched towards her wand hidden in her jacket sleeve subconsciously.

 _No wait it out, see where this will go_. Obliviations can come later if need be. She liked Hannibal, she had let him in, just a smidgeon bit it still felt freeing. Something she hadn't felt in a long time. He was smart, quick and begrudgingly Hermione knew he deserved her respect for that alone.

He was after all just doing his job. She was the one who fool hardedly promised Will to see this through when she knew she could never let someone fully in. Before she could speak, Hannibal beat her to it.

"I think you did this because you let me in Hermione. Just a crack, but still enough to terrify you. You are sitting there trying to detach yourself from the situation at hand, telling yourself you sent Abigail here to throw me off, but you didn't, not fully. You care about her, you see a little bit of yourself in her and it makes you want to bolt. If i had of ran, or called the police when i found out about Abigails... Participation in her fathers crimes, you would have your answer to how i would have reacted if you had opened up anymore than you already have. Fight or flight, the two modes you are perpetually stuck in, but you can't run can you Hermione? Something here, your killer I'm assuming, has you stuck here. So, you have fallen back to fighting when there really is no need. We are not the enemies Hermione. Underneath all the sarcasm, coldness and thick armor you have encased yourself in, is a person who feels, maybe even a little bit too much, would it be so bad to let someone in to see underneath your war paint?"

Hermione stood up in a swirling rush, her heartbeat pumping like drums in her ears, nearly deafening out the words Hannibal was saying, but they cut through the air like daggers. His words stabbed too close to home, he had watched her too well, knew things he shouldn't know, couldn't know. It left her naked, vulnerable under his microscope, seeing every scar and half healed wound her soul carted around with her. Her hands clenched at her sides, muscles tensing achingly so.

"Do not tell me how i feel or who i am, i know to well what type of person i am, and it's not what you foolishly believe Hannibal. I'd quit while i was ahead if i was you."

Hannibal stood up to his imposing full height. Steadily without missing a beat, he walked over to his desk and plucked up the landline, circling back around to her stopping but a few feet away, close enough that if she extended her arm, she could touch him. Hannibal lifted his arm out halfway between them and held out the phone for her to take.

"Well then, if you truly don't care like you wish the world to believe, ring the police. Get Abigail arrested if she means nothing to you, get her locked away for simply doing what you did, surviving. Here Hermione, take the phone and prove how wrong i am about you."

Abigail began shouting and rushing towards them but Hannibal held his hand out, stopping her from her protests and halting her from coming any closer. Abigail looked at her, green eyes wide and pleading. Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat. Chest constricting painfully as anger, sadness, anxiety all warred inside her. Snatching the phone out of his hand she dialed the first few digits, just one away from ending this stand off, but her thumb froze above the number. Hermione couldn't bring herself to press the button and finally the hailstorm of emotions settled and only rage was left, hot and raging in her gut.

"Bloody fucking Hell!"

Hermione threw the phone, with more force than necessary, onto the seat she had vacated, the small phone bouncing on the leather cushion, nearly falling of and clattering to the floor. Hannibal took a step towards her but Hermione scuttled backwards. Anger making her legs move as she paced the office, not being able to stop once she had started moving. Constant motion always helped her before, why was it not working now?

"Emotions are not a sign of weakness Hermione. This needed to happen to show you that if you let the right people in, they wont run away, look, we're both still here."

Hermione rounded on Hannibal, still not coming to a stop but keeping her eyes on him. She felt like a bleeding deer chucked in with a hungry lion, blood already coating its muzzle. She hated it, she hated him, she hated Abigail, she hated everything in that moment.

"Don't. You knew i would do this, you planned this all out didn't you? I'm not a pawn for you to push around on the god damned board!"

Hannibal smiled this time, a true one even if there was something Hermione couldn't quite named lurked under the surface. It only unsettled her more, she prided herself on reading people, it was what kept her alive through all the shit life had thrown her way.

"No, a pawn you are not. I knew you would fight against any form of someone trying to get close, it was inevitable. However, i didn't quite see this playing out. I am glad at this turn, Abigail needs someone like you to help guide her, a psychiatrist can only do so much. You saved her life Hermione, you are partly responsible for her, are you going to own up to that?"

For the first time, Hermione gave Abigail more than a passing glance, to afraid before to see herself reflected back at her. Abigail was pretty, in an frail kind of way. Thin, pale, sleek and rosy cheeked. And what laid in her eyes, behind all the useless colors and front she put up was the same thing that shadowed Hermiones eyes when she could bring herself to make eye contact in the mirror. Fire, blazing and scorching, a will to survive and more than that... To live. Live properly, laugh, love and just be. It was a dangerous will to have in the lives they led, people like them often left dead bodies in their wake.

Hermione clenched her eyes shut tight for a moment before opening them again. Hermione hadn't been able to find that just yet, she didn't think she ever would, but she prayed Abigail would. The life she was leading was not one she would wish on her worst enemy. Always haunted, always weary, always on edge. So very tired all the time. How different would she be if she had someone in her corner from the beginning? She wouldn't be the mess she was right now that was for sure.

"Do you have anything important back at the hospital?"

Abigail jolted slightly at her question and shook her hair, dark locks flaring and dancing around her slim shoulders.

"No?"

Hermione nodded absent mindlessly. Good. Food and clothes would be easy to get, memories or mementos not so much.

"Good. You're coming back home with me. I'm pretty sure some of my clothes will fit you until i can buy you some."

Abigail blinked owlishly at her, bewilderment flickering across her face. The weariness of the confrontation only seconds prior still marring her face.

"But they will notice I'm not at the hospital and you said Agent Crawford is already suspicious."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively at Abigails worry.

"I can handle Crawford. Would you rather go back to the hospital, with all the pity masquerading as sympathy, all the curious nurses or news reporters drooling at your door?"

Abigail once again violently shook her head in the negative and darted over to Hermione.

"Thank you."

Hermione didn't say anything, didn't react all to much. She was tired, always tired.

"Well, lets get going, i do actually have a job to do and I'm sure today has been enough for everyone to handle."

Hermione started walking to the door, planning on leaving with Abigail trailing behind her. Hannibals hand on her arm made her stop and fight down the urge to punch or break bone. She needed to practice suppressing that urge when it came to human contact, less the whole Alana situation would repeat.

"Remember Hermione, last time, you said connection and not being alone is what you need to work on. Doing this will help, you do not need to block me... Or Abigail out."

Hermione looked at Abigail and then out to the large window. Cold breeze wiping around the town. Hermione shouldered off her jacket and gave it to Abigail, as a witch, Hermione had a slightly higher immune system, never really falling ill to colds or infections like a lot of muggles did. In a simple t-shirt, Abigail would freeze and get ill. After throwing the poor girl to the sharks, it was the least she owed her. Abigail took it with a smile and wrapped it around her small shoulders. Pulling her arm back, The white bandage that was forever on her forearm caught Her gaze.

With slightly trembling fingers, she undid the bandage and pushed the material into her back pocket, turning back she ran a thumb over her branding.

"No more hiding then."

Hannibal squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and snapped Hermione out of it. She dropped her arm and marched to the door, hearing Abigail shuffle behind her.

"10 AM next week Hermione."

Hermione stopped at the door way, looking over her shoulder at the man still in the middle of the room. He may not be an enemy, may actually be a friend, but he had still managed to warp this whole thing to his liking. In Hermiones world, that was a dangerous person to know. A doctor who walked like a fighter, A psychiatrist who manipulated, a man whose own armor was so thick and solid, Hermione could not get a full look at what lay beneath when he was able to pick apart her own so mercilessly. Friend or foe?

"10 Am, got it."

Hermione smiled and turned back around, walking out of the room and down the hallway, smile dropping as soon as she was out of sight, Abigail still trailing behind her, but Hermione had only one thing running through her mind.

 _Who the hell was Hannibal Lecter?_

* * *

Abigail was fast asleep in her bed, having had a stomach full and settled in. The night was upon them and many people had gone home to the warmth of their houses and comfy little beds. Hermione however, was out on the streets, heading to a park in the middle of nowhere. She needed air, she needed to think, to plan and scheme. She had been played the moment she stepped foot into Abigails hospital room, Hermione loathed being played, even if it seemed like it was for the best, people only played her once, then they learnt why you don't push Hermione Granger into a corner.

Hannibal knew to many of her weaknesses, yet Hermione knew none of his. Not one single clue from their meetings to give her something tangible to use if the shit hit the fan. Which in Hermiones life, was most probably already about to happen. All she found was more contradictory findings. Things that shouldn't mesh into one person.

She needed a button, a weak joint, a god damned pressure point to jab if the need ever came to get him to fully back off. Obviously sending Abigail in head first had been the wrong thing to do. Hannibal was too clever, and Hermione despised herself just that bit more for doing something like that. If she was going to live after all of this, she couldn't lower herself to her killers level. If she did so, she would only end up killing herself in the end, she could hardly stomach her own reflection as it was.

So that left incognito detail gathering. She very well couldn't follow Hannibals every move, she had bigger game to hunt. Especially seen as her killer wanted people dead, and Hannibals only crime was to see underneath Hermiones mask. Most of her was screaming to let it go, Hannibal was trying to help and like always, she was pushing the help away. To proud and stubborn to admit defeat. But a small, minute fraction of her rang alarm bells. He didn't add up, something she wasn't seeing. Something she was likely refusing to see because when it came down to it, Hermione could see herself liking Hannibal if she ever let herself to. He hadn't ran, hadn't even flinched when Hermiones colors flashed through her facade. That was a commodity Hermione had not seen in someone before.

But Will, it always boiled back down to him. If she did let Hannibal in, he could very well make it onto her killers list of targets, he could end up leading or helping her killer get to Will. She couldn't risk it, couldn't risk Wills safety or Hannibals life because she felt like someone could possibly understand her. It was foolish, and Hermione was no fool. Sooner or later, her killer would strike the finishing blow, she needed to guard all possibilities. Hannibals blood would just end up soaking into her already stained hands if she did let him in anymore than she already had.

Coming to the bench Hermione came to a stop, boots kicking the dirt as she waited for her guest to arrive. A flash of bouncing red curls came around the corner and Hermione smiled at the woman.

"Freddy Lounds, you actually came."

The womans lips pierced into a thin line as she eyed Hermione.

"Hermione Jean Granger. What could someone as prestigious as you want with a lowly journalist?"

Hermione chuckled as she turned to face the woman full on.

"Don't play coy. I've seen you did your research. I could have told you that you wouldn't find much if you had only asked. Now you've likely wasted a day digging up my middle name. What a waste."

Freddy huffed and shoved her leather gloved hands into her thick woolen coat. Right hand shuffling around for a few moments. _Ah, definitely as i suspected she would be._

"For someone whose done so much for justice, you have suspiciously low details about yourself. Tell me, why is that?"

Hermione straightened out and rose a eyebrow high. Always digging for the big bit of gossip to chew on, the perfect person to use for what Hermione was planning.

"My job calls for it. Now what would... A lowly journalist be doing digging into files she shouldn't even glance at? Hmmm? Your little website not making so much impact, you need something big to get your name into the neon lights of the news world? Don't look so shocked, i did my research to. Tattle crime is such a... predictable and boring name. Not to mention all the lawsuits you're facing. That's a lot of cash you need to splash out just to keep afloat and your name out of the mud."

Freddy bit her bottom lip, eyes steely and calculating as she regarded Hermione.

"Well, you seem to be in need of my services, so my reputation can't be that bad."

Hermione chuckled as she sat on the rusty bench, waiting for Freddy to join her but she never did. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, Freddys comfort was not needed for this conversation. In fact the more on edge she put her the better for Hermione.

"You're aunts in hospital isn't she? Chronic schizophrenia is such a hard thing to handle. I'm betting those bills don't help with all the other bills piling around you. This isn't really what you could do for me, more what i could do for you, for something incredible simple for someone who's so good at digging into things she shouldn't."

A flash of interest presented itself in Freddys eyes, the woman walked forward and sat down beside her. Good, Hermione had her full attention now.

"And what exactly would i be digging into?"

Hermione lent back on the bench, the cold metal seeping through her jacket. Making herself look more relaxed than she actually was, her non committal answers and posture would further put Freddy on edge, it was just another ploy, another stage set for the play of Hermiones life.

"Here's the thing Freddy. Not what, who. In exchange, I'll pay off all your mothers bills for the year, I'll get all court cases for indictment against you wiped off of record. Gone, poof. All i want is for you to follow someone. You're good at that aren't you? Send me everything you see, i want to know where he goes, what he god damn buys from the grocery store, what shirt he wears that day. Everything you can possibly find, i want it."

Freddy scoffed and stood back up, looking good and ready to storm off.

"I'm not a damned P.I!"

Hermione stood up to and stepped towards the woman, nose practically against Freddys as she snarled at her. The nice Hermione act well and truly over.

"For me, you'll be whatever i want. A personal investigator, A journalist, or a maid. If i say jump, you're going to fly."

Freddy squared up, fire blazing in her eyes. What was it with red-heads and their temper?

"What makes you think I'll do anything you say? Your nothing but a special agent from over the seas."

Hermione laughed, grabbing the womans shoulders and squeezing painfully tight. She didn't want to do it, but fear worked like nothing else. She needed Freddy scared of her, scared of the repercussions if she ever let slip of what Hermione had asked her or what she will do for Hermione. Plus, Freddy wasn't squeaky clean either, she had intimidated sources before, it was time to get a taste of her own medicine. Leaning in, she whispered into Freddys ear.

"I'm the special agent who knows 126 ways to kill you without it ever leading back to me, painful deaths I'm told. I'm the one who can have your little website down with a click of a button. I'm the one who can have you thrown into jail where you will become some ones bitch for a pack of cigarettes. With one phone call, i can have your entire life in pretty tatters around my feet like confetti. So tell me Freddy, who are you to me?"

Pulling away, she watched as Freddy swallowed deeply, eyes having a frantic glaze before settling on determination.

"I'm your newly hired P.I. That's who i am."

Hermione smirked and slapped her on the back roughly. Fighting back the nausea that her threats stormed up in her stomach. She was going straight to hell, she could already smell the sulfur around her.

Reaching under Freddys top, just by her belly, with lightening speed she ripped off the wire she was wearing. Dunking her hand into Freddys coat, her right pocket, she pulled out her phone, which was on the recording app. Hermione pocketed the wire and recorder, going through Freddys phone she deleted every recording she found, even the ones she new didn't belong to their conversation. No trace, no evidence, no involvement.

"And as my new P.I, no recording me, it makes me angry and well... I act rash when I'm angry. We don't want that when you've only just got the job. All cases against you will be nothing coming tomorrow morning. The money for your aunt will be delivered to your apartment tomorrow, don't worry, i know where you live. I'd remember that if i was you. Get to work straight away, i have no time for waiting around. When i ring, you meet me here and give over everything you have. Until then, stay safe Freddy."

Hermione turned around and strolled down the path back home after shoving Freddys phone back into Freddys pocket. Doing things like this was too easy for her, way to easy. Her killer had taught her well it seemed, but no matter what, the sick feeling always came. She was made in his image after all, god help the world... God help her.

"What's the persons name you want me to look into?!"

Hermione shoved her hands into her pockets, still fighting down the sickness that was quickly rising. Hands clasped at her stomach through the leather. Hermione didn't turn around, simply shouted her answer over her shoulder before making her way back home, before Abigail woke up and found her missing.

"Dr Hannibal Lecter!"

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE PREVIEW-**

"Nothing, absolutely nothing! He's a bloody saint with expensive tastes! There has to be something."

Will looked over her shoulder to the pictures littering her dining table and around her open laptop.

"Hermione? Hermione... This is Hannibal... Have you been investigating him? Jesus Christ Hermione! What the hell are you thinking?"

Hermione scoffed as she tensed in defense. Will wouldn't understand, she needed something, anything to throw in Hannibals face for when the time came. Yet she had nothing still, either Freddy Lounds was a rubbish journalist, or Hannibal was hiding something.

"There's nothing Will, no one, and i mean no one, is that squeaky clean. He's hiding something, i know he is."


End file.
